


Desperate Measures

by smolskye



Series: soulbond 'verse [1]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Dom/sub, Domestic, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Human Bill Cipher, M/M, Magic, Mind Manipulation, Mind Sex, Original Character(s), Possessiveness, Road Trips, Sexual Coercion, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, Soul Bond, adding that just in case, also mabifica happens later, original demon character - Freeform, post-college, sort of, the twins run the shack, these tags make this sound super dark but it's really not, these three become the strangest little family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-12
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-04-14 10:11:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 162,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4560639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smolskye/pseuds/smolskye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The transition from college to business ownership was supposed to be smooth and easy, but that was before Dipper’s roommate was used as a host vessel for a demon that can’t seem to leave the Pines twins alone. The only possible solution to a decade-old problem is a ritual that binds an immortal and a mortal’s souls and minds together until death, but what Dipper has to give in return has consequences of its own.</p>
<p> <i>An old grudge, a motive for murder, a catalyst for the apocalypse, and a hell of a lot of confusion. He never wanted this.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ACT ONE: SYMBIOSIS

**Eugene, OR; 2022**

“Ladies, gentlemen, distinguished students...welcome to the ‘real world.’” The commencement speaker ended his speech with air quotes before giving a short nod and stepping away from the mic.

The uproar from the grads was instantaneous, around five thousand students shouting and hollering and yelling in each others’ faces, some crying, some hugging each other, bouncing up and down. Yellow and green were _everywhere,_ on flags and t-shirts and graduation gowns, on dresses, on decent suits, on the confetti that Mabel shot into the air with a gun of her own creation. _Bang._ It was stuck on everybody’s clothes and everybody was laughing and she was beaming, her curls bouncing, much of her homemade confetti stuck in them.

Dipper didn’t bother to pick the glittery pieces of paper out of his hair, and many of them were simply knocked out when Mabel tackle-hugged him. “We’re _graduates!”_ she said shrilly, her voice almost cracking into decibels only dogs could hear. “We have _degrees!_ Omigosh, Dipper, we’re, like, _real adults_ now!”

“ _Haha_ , yeah,” he replied, a little awkward but still grinning like an idiot, like the full understanding of the situation hadn’t hit him yet; that they had their Bachelor’s degrees, that college was over, that the absolute absurdity that had been the past few years was behind them.

In and around the ridiculous euphoria of their classmates, the happiness was contagious; Dipper found himself blindly hugging people he’d only met once, had had one class with, had dated his roommate in sophomore year, had puked on his shoe at a party once, had taken the last cheese danish the day of the huge calc final freshman year and had become Dipper’s sworn enemy for the years following - it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. They were  _graduates._

After who knows how long, Mabel grabbed his hand and pulled him away from the giant mass of students, through the crowd and out. When they emerged, their parents beamed at them, their mother wiping away tears.

“I’m so proud of you both,” said their father, sounding a little choked up, obviously determined not to cry. Mabel wrapped her arms around him and sniffled into his shirt as he gave an awkward one-armed hug to his son. Dipper had barely a moment to suffer a painful thump on the back before their mother pulled him into a hug.

“It just doesn’t feel real,” Dipper heard himself say. “I can’t believe it.”

“Oh, I can’t either, honey,” she said tearfully. She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue, blotted away bits of mascara, brushed some hair out of her face, and smoothed down her blouse, doing her best to pull herself together.

Her voice still shaky, she grabbed her husband’s arm and said, “Well, come on, we’ve got to get going, we have reservations for 1:30, and we’re flying out to NJ at five -”

“Is Grandpa doing okay?” Mabel asked anxiously; their parents were visiting their grandfather in New Jersey because he had fallen ill.

“He’s doing better, sweetie,” their father assured her. “No more than another week in the hospital, tops.”

“We’ll call you as soon as we see him, don’t you worry," added their mother, pulling her phone out of her pocket. "Let’s go, let’s go, the restaurant’s a half hour drive away and it’s already 1...1:13! Move, kids, move!”

Lunch was full of chatter, Mabel talking excitedly about the huge grad party that was planned for that night and at length about her senior thesis project, which included creating her own line of clothing that her design professor had proclaimed to be “a refreshing, vibrant take on a classic casual style,” whatever _that_ meant. Dipper explained some of his thesis project, but much of it flew over his parents’ heads, considering it was titled “Automated Distortion Recognition and Compensation in Automated Fingerprint Identification Systems,” and Mabel pretending to snore loudly about three sentences in made their parents laugh enough to forget the whole thing.

They told some roommate and friend stories, pointedly leaving out or skipping around those involving copious amounts of alcohol, illegal drugs, petty theft, or minor vandalism. Without prior discussion, they silently agreed through a series of looks that some other, less typical things should also be left unsaid. They hadn’t told their parents about much of anything paranormal that had happened to them in the last ten years, and they weren’t about to start now. The weirdness that had found them in Gravity Falls ten years ago had followed them to California and back to Oregon, much to their chagrin and suspicion. There was the occasional  _fun_ supernatural experience, but their less-than-normal adventures were usually harrowing and dangerous, or at the least very inconvenient.

Their parents noticed nothing odd or irregular about their college experience, just laughed along and recalled some of their own college memories, though theirs included a lot less panicking over paying back student loans. After lunch, the family went back to the campus, where the kids pointed out significant buildings and people, and said their goodbyes to the campus that had been their temporary home. All too soon, their parents left to drive to the nearest airport (cue more tears and hugging), where they would depart to New Jersey.

This left Mabel and Dipper to their own devices for the three hours they had until the grad party that started at 8. This was mostly eating pizza at their favorite joint and discussing their future with high hopes. They had inherited the Mystery Shack, with the reasoning being “There’s too many bad memories there for me” from one great uncle and “If you kids don’t take it, what the hell am I supposed to do with it?” from the other. Having grown up with the place, they were positive that they could tackle running it with little to no problems. Neither of them had majored in business - Mabel had pursued a degree in fashion design and Dipper had majored in forensics with a minor in filmmaking - but, hey, neither had Stan, and he did pretty well for over 30 years.

“Just hire a few people maybe? Do a bit of redecorating...hm, more _glitter_ …” Mabel mused, doodling on a napkin.

“I don't think giving tours is gonna be a problem, I’ve gotten pretty good at lying through my teeth about pretty much everything,” Dipper offered, his voice a little hoarse from earlier. “I mean, I turned in a paper two weeks after it was due because I convinced my advanced stats professor I had mono.”

Mabel rolled her eyes. “Yeah, but Connery is the chillest professor ever. Jenna told me.”

“Still counts! I also lied to Elliott about having a girlfriend so he wouldn’t keep asking where I’d go sneaking off to in the middle of the night, and he bought it!”

Mabel grinned. “You’re right, it would take a good liar to convince somebody that _you_ have a _girlfriend.”_

Dipper frowned at her. “Why are you like this?”

She just giggled.

They had agreed on all the major things weeks, even months prior to graduation. The whole upstairs of the Mystery Shack had been cleaned out over winter break, so it was all prepared for them to move in. They had furnished it with the help of their parents and other relatives, and everything only looked somewhat secondhand. All in all, they felt ready. Ready to be responsible adults, ready to take on the world together.

And then, at 8, they went to the Theta Chi frat house for the biggest party of the year.

 

The party was just as much of a weird, surreal blur as graduation, but this time there was the added effect of intoxication and really loud, annoying music. Dipper found himself doing exactly two shots with a group of cheerleaders, who were later joined by some members of the marching band, before being dragged off by his friend Nate to participate in a rather spectacular system of bets involving a beer bong. By the time the sun had set, Dipper was already relatively drunk and standing on a balcony with a half-empty glass in his hand, staring out at the last streaks of orange and pink going down past the silhouettes of the dorm buildings in the distance.

He smiled dozily and swirled the drink rather unnecessarily, considering it was originally about a ¼ oz of rum with an entire can of Coke, then sipped at it. The sounds of the party were loud from inside the building, but to Dipper they seemed dim; muted, almost. He felt a significant distance between himself and the people inside.

Then there was a hand on his shoulder and he nearly dropped his glass.

“ _Kirby,_ God, don’t scare me like that,” he said jokingly to the heavyset blond guy that had appeared behind him.

Kirby - or Ryan, his legal name - grinned broadly, his face already red and his hair already a mess. “C’mon, man, we’ve been looking for you! We need a fourth for...something.”

Dipper raised an eyebrow. “ _Something?_ I’m not putting a bag of ice down my pants, I heard Matthew Derringer literally froze his balls off.”

“No, dude, it’s not that, it’s a game that Cole invented. Plus, Matthew’s _fine._ Now, c’mon, get back inside.”

“Cole invented a game and you’re _playing_ it? Need I remind you of the time we ended up chasing a chicken through the tech building for three hours?” Dipper asked incredulously, grinning.

Kirby rolled his eyes. “There’s no chickens, just a lot of vodka and schnapps and some cute girls, now are you in?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m in,” said Dipper with a sigh. “Just gimme a minute. Go back to drinking.”

 _"Drinking!”_ Kirby shouted to the crowd as he headed back inside. Dipper vaguely heard a chorus of _"Drinking!"_ in return.

Looking up at the dark, starry sky, Dipper unintentionally sought out his constellation - there, almost directly overhead. He decided he should probably stop drinking (at least for now) when the stars in the Big Dipper started to _vibrate,_ and set down his glass on a table. He rubbed the palms of his hands into his eyes, blinked rapidly, and looked up again.

Okay, they were still vibrating, but it wasn’t like rubbing your eyes made you sober.

Despite knowing that alcohol can create mild optical illusions and recognizing that this was most likely the effect of three shots and some indistinguishable amount of beer and rum, it was still unsettling to the point that Dipper hurriedly pushed himself away from the side of the building, retrieved his drink, and walked inside, closing the screen door behind him. The wind was unseasonably cold on his back, but he passed this sudden bout of paranoia off on the alcohol and the fading giddiness of graduation.

 _Graduation._ He was still reeling from it, hours later, long after everybody had gotten Mabel’s confetti out of their hair. He was a _college graduate._ In two days, he and Mabel would be _running their own business._ It made his head spin. Not that the alcohol helped much with that, either.

The drinking game that Cole had invented combined the brash candidness of Never Have I Ever with the juvenile thrill of 7 Minutes In Heaven, though Dipper did his best to swerve around both making out and more drinking. He ended up only kissing Samantha Wilkins in a closet very briefly before she burst into very loud giggles and actually fell out of the closet, causing his friend Nate to laugh equally loudly and significantly more obnoxiously to the point that Kirby dumped half a pound of ice cubes down his shirt. This evolved into some play fighting that Dipper, again, managed to swerve around for the most part, though he did watch and laugh from a safe distance.

After a while, he escaped the game and got into a heated discussion about Star Wars with his much nerdier friend Andy. When Andy left to get more alcohol, tripping down the hallway and nearly falling into another girl’s cleavage, said girl introduced herself as Tori Langley (“Didn’t we meet at D&D club in sophomore year?” “Maybe.”) and complained loudly about why Mace Windu got to have a purple lightsaber while the other Jedi only had blue and green. This evolved into an intense conversation about lightsaber creation mythos that was interrupted when somebody's discarded shirt hit Tori in the face and she charged off to find the perpetrator of the crime.

It was around midnight when Dipper once again slipped away to solitude, this time on the balcony on the ground floor, where a few other people sat and talked to each other, looked at their phones, or stared out into the night looking contemplative.

Dipper felt the odd cool air again and shivered, his fingers digging into the fabric of his plaid shirt. Nobody else seemed to notice, even the buff douchey guy in the UO tank top and the girl on the phone wearing a spaghetti strap sundress. This was his first clue that something was off.

The alcohol wasn’t helping his memory at all. He swore to God he’d memorized the most important parts of those journals a long time ago, but it was hard to remember that stuff when you were drunk. He massaged his temples, trying to remember if he’d ever read anything about random cold air on a 76 degree day. The hair on his arms stood on end and the people around him felt far away, weirdly far away, almost on a different plane -

Oh no.

Oh _hell_ no.

Dipper turned and practically ran inside just as the deep blue sky began to fade to a dark shade of gray.

 _Not today. Not on_ graduation  _day,_ he thought frantically and angrily.  _Not when I’m kinda pretty drunk and stumbling all over the place -_

“Yoooo, Dipper, where’s your chill?” A guy had grabbed him by the upper arms and stopped him. It was Jeff, his roommate from sophomore year, who was grinning in his face and looking sloppily drunk and probably stoned, his eyes stained red and half-closed.

“I - I need to talk to my sister, have y - have y’seen Mabel?” Dipper asked, suddenly aware of his intoxication and trying not to slur all of his words together into an incomprehensible mess.

Jeff shrugged, a slow roll of his shoulders. “Nah. ‘Dunno where she is.”

“Mabel Pines?” said a girl who was passing them. “She was upstairs with Kitty and ‘Tavia.”

“Where upstairs? ‘Cause I was up there a few minutes ago -”

“Oh, sorry - upstairs over at the Delta house.” Then someone signaled to her and she ran off.

“The _Delta_ \- ?”

“Y-yeah,” said Jeff with a hiccup. “Party got too big, some people went ‘cross the street to the Delta house. I think some people went to Theta Upsilon Frat, too, but I dunno, those guys’re weird, I remember in junior year -”

“Great, okay, I need to get over there,” said Dipper hastily, turning back towards the door.

Jeff followed him. “I’ll come with, I need - I need to find Tom.”

“Tom Baseer? He’s passed out in a bathtub by now,” said Dipper absentmindedly, shoving and being shoved by people as he headed to the door.

“What? Naaahh, he can hold his liquor better now, he’s fine.”

“Whatever you say, he threw up on my shoes after, like, two beers once.”

"God, that party was a mess."

They reached the open door with no further incident. The world was still mostly saturated, thank God, though Tank Top Douche looked less spray-tan orange than usual and Debbie Swanson’s bright yellow dress was a few shades less vibrant than it had been before.

“Why’re you in such a rush?” Jeff’s voice was low and dozy, like he would fall asleep if he wasn’t tripping after Dipper.

“I just - I need to talk to Mabel.” No explanation would make any kind of sense at this point, especially to Jeff. The alcohol seemed to be burning out of Dipper’s brain with this new rush of fear-based adrenaline, leaving him significantly more alert and aware of his surroundings.

Across the street at the Delta house, it was a similar scene. People were talking and laughing out front, playing beer pong in the lawn, chasing small animals, belting crappy pop songs from the 2000s, the usual. Dipper glanced up at the sky again - blue dimming to gray, vibrating Big Dipper, same as before, so _not_ completely because of being under the influence - and ran faster towards the Delta house.

As he approached the open door, he ran smack into his sister.

“Oi! Watchit, ya’ prat!” Mabel exclaimed in a terrible British accent, stifling her giggles, then stopped short when she recognized Dipper. “ _Ohhh,_ hey, bro!”

He grabbed her by the arm. “Okay, there’s no time to explain, but we have to get out of here.”

She frowned and reverted back to her normal voice. “Why? What’s going on?”

“Look at this!” He gestured around. “See anything different?”

Mabel glanced from her left to her right once, then back again, then again, looking more alarmed each time. “Dip, it’s -”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Wait, what’s going on?” asked Jeff, confused, though he, too, was starting to desaturate, color leaching out of his bright green sweater and the facepaint around his eyes. His voice echoed slightly and his features began to blur.

“Nothing, nothing, why don’t you go find Tom?” said Dipper hastily, giving Jeff a slight shove towards the door. “We’ve got, er -”

“- sibling things,” Mabel finished, shuffling towards the street. “Very important sibling things.”

Jeff shrugged and headed inside. “Whatever, dude. See ya later, then.” His voice was garbled and muted, and Dipper knew they didn’t have much time.

“Where’re we gonna go?” Mabel asked, looking from one end of the street to the other.

“Cemetery,” Dipper decided quickly. “It’ll be empty. C’mon, we need to hurry!”

They rushed down the street towards the cemetery as the world continued to lose its color. It wasn’t as eerie as it could have been, considering the loud music blasting from the student houses and the sounds of drunken college kids as they sang and shouted and threw up into bushes, but Dipper’s arms were covered in goosebumps anyway.

“How the _heck_ is this happening?” Mabel demanded, looking frantic. She spit hair out of her mouth with a _“bleh"_ and added, “Didn’t you banish him, like, two years ago after that thing with the centaurs?”

Dipper grimaced. “Uh, yeah, maybe I, er, didn’t do it properly?”

She frowned at him. “How could you not have _done it_ properly? You’ve done it at least six times now, if you don’t count that weird time at senior prom -”

“Ugh, that was a mess. Well, I have no idea as to how _else_ it could have happened," Dipper grumbled. "Nobody else has had access to that journal. Come on, we gotta hurry." They both picked up the pace, their shoes slapping loudly on the pavement, and Dipper heard Mabel mutter to herself about how she was smart not to wear heels.

They approached the cemetery gate after another block, leaving much of the party noise behind them. Dipper hurriedly pushed his way through the gate and Mabel followed him closely, grabbing at his shirt. They darted around tombstones and benches and memorials and tried to get to a spot that was far away from where anybody could see them.

The world was almost completely grayscale at that point, any last hints of color fading away. An eerie silence had fallen, the sounds of the night distorted into a dull hum. Dipper gripped his sister’s hand until she complained, “Hey, ow! Knock it off!”

She stared apprehensively up at the sky. “When d’ya think it’s gonna happen? It doesn’t usually take this long, does it?”

Abruptly, Mabel’s eyes grew wide and she jumped up and down, shaking her hands.

“What?” Dipper asked, waiting for her to calm down; this was her way of telling him she had an idea.

Eventually she stopped jumping and was able to speak. “Are you gonna be able to get rid of him??” she demanded. “Do you have the -”

“No, of _course_ I don’t, it’s graduation! Look, I practically have it memorized, it’s like - shit. It’s like…” Dipper racked his tipsy brain. “ _Reggae_ \- no. _Regna terrae, cantata.._ .how many ta’s are in cantata... _cantatatata -_ ”

“Dipper!!”

“Sorry! I’m drunk!” he defended himself, hiccuping. _"R_ _egna terrae, cantata Deo, psallite Cernunnos._ That’s the first line, see?”

“Aren’t there like 20 lines??”

“Well, yeah, but - _oh my God!_ Wait -” Dipper dug around in his jeans and pulled out a square of paper from the tiny pocket within the pocket on his right. “I think this is it!” He started to unfold it.

Mabel raised an eyebrow at him. “So you’ve just been carrying an _exorcism spell_ with you all this time?”

“You never know when you might need one! Well, it’s either...an exorcism spell...or my philosophy notes from last term -” Dipper finished unfolding the paper. “Yeah, these are my philosophy notes.”

“ _Dipper!!”_ Mabel said shrilly, her voice squeaky with panic.

“I know, I know! Maybe there’s something else…” He continued to search through his pockets, then went to the lining of his jeans.

“Maybe I sewed one into the lining of my shirt!” Ignoring the brisk night air, Dipper pulled off his shirt and turned it inside out, peering at each of the seams. “It’s possible, okay?” he retorted, despite Mabel’s lack of input.

“Bro, I’m all for unconventional methods, you know that, but I really doubt there’s an exorcism spell hidden in -”

“Well, look at all of this!”

The twins whirled around in shock and nearly toppled over, clinging to each other. Their eyes went to the gray sky, searching for the owner of the voice they recognized all too well, but there was nothing.

Mabel frowned. “Wait, wh -”

“I realize this is rather inconvenient timing, but I didn’t have much of a choice, considering you two are leaving tomorrow - congratulations, by the way, inheriting your own business is big for kids fresh out of college! In _this_ economy! _Sheesh!_ You're really pretty lucky, y'know."

“Bill, where are you? Stop hiding, don’t be stupid!” Mabel challenged, though her eyes were wide in fright and now she was the one clutching Dipper's hand until he winced in pain.

Bill just laughed, and it sounded _weird,_ weirder than usual. His voice, too, was slightly different than they remembered. “I’m sorry, you’re right, my apologies, what am I doing? I look so different now, I suppose I should show it off while I still can!”

There was movement behind a particularly big tombstone and a _person_ stepped out, walking jerkily and looking very off-kilter, grinning broadly. Both of the twins leaped back in surprise.

“ _Elliott?”_ Dipper demanded, staring at the boy who had approached them. Said boy was about 5’10, a redhead, wearing a dark green UO shirt, jeans, and Vans. Most importantly, he was very, _very_ familiar.

Elliott(?) came forward until he was about six feet from them, an absurd, very inhuman expression on his face, some kind of real life uncanny valley. Mabel had the sense to step back, but Dipper was unable to move, his feet glued to the ground, his mouth half-open in dumb shock.

“Y - you’re my _roommate,”_ he sputtered. “Y - what the _hell!”_

 _"Billiott,"_ Mabel whispered, glancing skyward. “Wow. _C_ _hills.”_

Billiott shrugged, his arms open. “What can I say? Your roommate’s kind of a gullible guy. Through, it wasn’t all on him, I can be _pretty_ convincing.” He glanced down at his own underarm, looking mildly disgusted. “I wish I could’ve gotten a host that doesn’t leak so much, though. This _can’t_ be healthy. Do you think he’s _dying?”_

“Wait, hold up. How the hell did this happen?” Dipper demanded, still staring at Billiott, too stunned to be afraid. “And  _when?”_

Billiott laughed and shook his head. “Really, Pine Tree? You don’t even have a guess?” His fast-paced, manic voice didn't belong in the body of a college student, nor did his constant need for movement. He danced around and drummed his fingers on gravestones.

Dipper shrugged helplessly. “I’m drunk?” he offered. It was then that he remembered he was still holding his shirt in his left hand, and he hastily pulled it back on, realized it was backwards, and shuffled it around.

“Fair enough, so is Elliott. I gotta say, standing up is _not_ usually this difficult. I’ve gotten pretty good at it.” Even as he said this, Billiott nearly toppled over. He grabbed onto a nearby tombstone to stand properly, nearly bashing his head on it in the process. “Well, I’ll start from the beginning. Surely you remember about halfway through the second term of the year, when -

“- when Elliott found one of the journals, of _course,”_ Dipper groaned, smacking his forehead and digging his fingers into his hairline. " _Crap,_ I completely forgot."

Mabel stared at him, her hair whipping around so fast it almost hit her in the face. “Elliott saw the journal?? You never told me that!” she exclaimed.

“I didn’t think it was important!” Dipper protested. “He asked what it was, I said it was a _fiction_ book about supernatural stuff! All he saw was the cover, he didn’t see anything on the inside -”

“- until later!” Billiott finished cheerfully, holding up a finger. “When Elliott decided he just _had_ to know more about that ‘fiction book.’ So, when you were out, he looked through all the books on your shelf, didn’t find it, looked through your closet, found it hidden under a bunch of sweaters. He flipped through it, thought it was _fascinating,_ but when he searched for the series online, he didn’t find anything! This, of course, led poor, naive Elliott to believe that the book was _real!”_

Dipper’s spirits sunk into the ground with every word, shock quickly transitioning to dismay. _I can’t believe I let this happen, how could I not have noticed, how could I not have been able to tell -_

Billiott continued, looking smug as all hell. “Now, you know Elliott isn’t really that smart of a guy, hates to study, and he knew that he was gonna have a really hard time trying to pass all of his classes this year - he wants to be a _lawyer_ _,_ hilarious! - so he decided it was time for some _drastic action."_ Billiott gestured at himself with his thumbs. “We made a deal - he gets all A’s for the rest of his college experience, I get to inhabit his body at short intervals whenever I choose!”

“Who the fuck would make a deal with a demon for  _grades?"_ Dipper demanded, mentally cursing Elliott to hell and back.

“A really desperate kid with a 2.7 GPA. Look at him now, a straight A student! Accepted at _Yale!_ Of course, I have my own plans,” Billiott said casually. “After all, I have a job to do as well, and it’ll be a hundred times easier now that I can occupy this body.” His wild grin returned to his face and, with a shiver, Dipper realized that Elliott’s friendly blue eyes were now a bright, glowing yellow. “Elliott’s going to have to take a bit of a _detour.”_

“You’re not following us,” Mabel said, her voice shaking. “You can’t! Somebody'll notice that Elliot's gone!"

Billiott laughed and pushed some red hair out of his face. “Unfortunately, you don’t have the means to stop me - unless, of course, you go after poor Elliott here.” He tapped his own head. “But you two are _much_ too nice to attack an innocent human, no matter how _dumb_ he is.” He rapped his head harder and winced. “Ow _ow,_ shit. Right, pain is a thing.”

“You’re wrong!” Mabel shouted. “Dipper, exorcise him! Try to remember th’ - th’ spell thing!”

Dipper bit his lip. “I, uh. I can’t do that.”

“What??”

“Look, Elliott knew exactly what he was doing, he knew that his body was going to be possessed and used, and when the host explicitly agrees to that kind of deal, the demon can’t be exorcised.” Dipper was mumbling by the end of the sentence, staring down at the ground.

“Exactly right!” Billiott clapped a few times. “I told Elliott exactly what I wanted from him, and he found it perfectly reasonable. If I was vague about it, it’d be a whole different story.”

“Ugh! Who even _decides_ this stuff?” Mabel complained, frustrated. Dipper ran a hand through his hair, trying to find a solution, not thinking of anything helpful at all. His thoughts, panicky as they were, were still muddled with inebriation.

“Why - why are you even doing this?” he demanded, tripping over his words. “What do you want from us? From our family?”

Billiott wagged his index finger. “ _Ah, ah_ , it’d be way too easy for me to just  _tell_ you, wouldn’t it?” he drawled. “Gotta keep you in suspense, like a good villain. I’ve been doing my research on how to be the proper Moriarty to your Holmes and Watson.” He nodded at Dipper and then Mabel. “I like to think I’m pretty _vague_ when it comes to my plans, but I suppose I should be more _clever_ with them.”

“If you don’t leave us alone,” Dipper threatened, “I’ll - we’ll - I -”

Billiott gave him a disparaging look. “Stammer at me? How intimidating.”

“Shut the hell up!” Dipper snapped, his hands balled into fists. It felt like his hangover had come early, a great pain suddenly blooming in the back of his head. It took a lot of willpower to make himself not hurl a punch at the demon in his friend's body, as it would be Elliott who would feel the pain, not Bill.

Billiott tapped his head with a finger. “Listen, I’d  _love_ to stay and catch up, I’m sure I’ve missed a lot - I can't believe you two are _college graduates,_ seems like just yesterday you were little kids - but it looks like my time is running out. I guess I’ll be off for now, then! Gotta prepare myself. See you tomorrow, _Mystery Twins_ ,” he sneered, before his eyes slid back in his head and Elliott’s body slumped to the ground.

There was a beat before Elliot stirred and the world began to saturate, color flooding back into the trees and the sky.

“Whazz...whazgoinon?” Elliott mumbled, rubbing at his face. “Where am I?”

The twins could only stare at each other in horror.

“Dip,” said Mabel, her voice wavering, “What th’  _heck_ are we gonna do??”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **last edited: 3.24.17**
> 
> for those of you looking for porn only and don't want to read a whole story, i gotchu fam. chapters 7, 12, 15, and 20.


	2. Chapter Two

Dipper was shaking.

It wasn’t because he was still hungover and hyper-caffeinated - okay, it kinda was - but because he was _freaked the fuck out_. Freaked the fuck out to the point that even driving the car he’d had since high school was difficult. He had to remind himself how to use the turn signal and that the brake and the gas weren’t “basically the same thing.” He silently thanked God that he was driving an automatic.

He was also blaming himself for Elliott’s possession. _If only I’d hidden the journal better!_ he berated himself for the fiftieth time that morning. _If only I’d talked to him about it! If only I was just more careful about the whole thing, I could've prevented this whole mess._

It didn’t help that he jumped whenever a car pulled up next to them on the highway. Bill could be following them at this very second, by car or God knows what. Like he wasn’t already a paranoid ball of nerves.

Mabel was shaking.

There was no hangover with her, seeing as she practically never drank, only fear. A bit of anger directed toward her brother, too, but she didn’t really blame Dipper for Elliott’s snooping. _She_ had never looked through her roommates’ stuff. Well, okay, there was one time, but she just needed a dollar for a soda.

Mostly she was just nervous, and a little pissed off. After what had happened throughout high school and into their college years in the "weird shit" category, both twins had eventually resigned themselves to a life of strange supernatural occurrences. Mabel had kind of hoped that, now that college was over and they were going to live actual adult lives, maybe the weirdness would calm down a bit, but apparently not.

More than ever, she was worried about her brother playing the role of the sacrificial lamb as he tended to do - that boy had a _hell_ of a martyr complex, she thought. She didn't want him throwing himself in front of the bus for the millionth time.

They could maybe tolerate another tribe of flesh-eating goblins or a chupacabra or even sentient spiders. What they couldn’t tolerate was a demon hellbent on messing up their lives.

With both of them lost in their worries, the two hour car ride seemed to take years.

 

They were getting close to the highway exit when, hesitantly, Dipper said, “Mabel, I have an idea.”

She glanced at him. “What is it?”

The old frown lines between his eyebrows were more pronounced than usual. He chewed on his lip. “There’s this...man, I don’t wanna call it a spell? It’s difficult to explain. Something similar to it was mentioned in the second journal, really briefly, but I was interested so I did some searching -”

“When was this?”

“Geez, I dunno, probably in junior year? But yeah, I wanted to know more about it, and I ended up getting this other book that explained it in detail, had to drive all the way out to Ashland to get it - anyway, I guess immortals meddling with mortal affairs has been a thing as long as people’ve been around, and this really old alchemagical wizard guy created a spell thing that kind of...calms immortals down, makes them less dangerous."

Mabel’s interest was piqued. “Really?? So there might be a way to stop Bill?”

Dipper heaved a sigh. “Maybe. The ritual’s really intense, for one thing, _and_ the immortal has to, like, consent to it, so it’s not like we can trap him or whatever. But it’s a possibility.”

“How could we ever get him to consent to that, though?” Mabel asked, frowning in thought. She stared aimlessly out the window. “We could never trick him...I know we have in the past, but that was just, like, a lot of luck and him being an egotistical idiot. He’d see this coming, I’m sure of it. He knows that we're desperate.”

Dipper kept his eyes firmly on the road as he said, “We could make a deal with him.”

As expected, Mabel didn’t react well.

“Are you _crazy_ , Dip??” she demanded. “Do you really not remember not being in your own _body_ for a couple hours?? And what about Ford? We know he made _some_ kind of deal, and he was so traumatized by it that he _still_  hates talking about it -”

“I know, I know! It’s a bad idea, but it’s the only way we could ever get him to do this stupid ritual in the first place.” The sign for the exit came up and Dipper changed lanes. “But I know whatever he would want in return would be, like, a billion times worse, so it’s probably not even worth it.”

“Well, don’t write it off completely,” said Mabel, trying to sound confident. “I mean, we might be able to make it work.”

“Hopefully,” Dipper said wearily, though he knew from his research that no immortal had ever consented to the ritual without some kind of exchange, and if some of the calmer, less chaotic immortal personalities demanded _quid pro quo,_ then there was no question as to whether Bill would do the same.

The question he asked himself then was, _what would I be able to offer him?_

When thinking about dealing with immortals, especially immortals with skewed moral compasses, often the first idea that comes to mind is _my soul,_ which Dipper automatically ruled out. Money was pointless; animal sacrifices were “crude and barbaric,” according to Bill; human sacrifice was out of the question; years of servitude was possible, but not appealing in the slightest. He shuddered at the thought of what Bill might make him do. It could be anywhere from magical experimentation to straight up murder, for all he knew.

However, the option that had just popped into his head, something random that had occurred to him for the first time in years, was both the preferred one and the one he had no idea how to even start.

He snapped out of his thoughts to exit the highway, pulling onto a road that winded past a few gas stations and fast food restaurants before heading into a large patch of woods. Now that they weren’t going 60 miles per hour, Dipper rolled down the windows. The weather was unseasonably warm, almost 75 degrees, and it was a comforting contrast to the unnatural chill of the night before.

Mabel leaned her head out the window. “We’re so close to home!” she said excitedly, her hair buffeted by the wind. _“Geez,_ we’ve been gone for so long!”

“It’s been like, six months.”

“That’s a long enough time,” Mabel defended herself. “Plus, we didn’t do anything except move furniture around. _Lame.”_

Her phone went off and she checked it. “Oh! Boo,” she said, disappointed.

“What?”

“Nothing important, just...nothing. Anyway, we need some better music.” She gasped. “ _Dipper,_ can we listen to my victory playlist??”

“As long as it’s not three hours of Ke$ha like your ‘done with midterms’ playlist.”

“Nah, this one’s got more variety.” Mabel struggled to pull a cord out of her bag, then plugged one end into her iPhone and the other into the car dash. She scrolled through her phone and tapped a few things.

Of course, the first song that played was -

 _“What time is it, summertime, it’s our vacation!”_ Mabel sang loudly, giggling, as Dipper groaned.

“Mabel, our lives are in danger, and we’re listening to _High School Musical.”_

“No better time! C’mon, bro-bro, _we’re all in this together.”_ She leaned over to sling an arm over his shoulder, but only briefly, as they were still on a relatively busy road.

“I hate everything about life in this very moment,” Dipper grumbled as Troy and Gabriella sang about summer romance and Mabel sang along with accompanying hand gestures, somehow knowing all of the words despite the fact that the second HSM came out in 2007.

The second song was “Any Way You Want It,” which wasn’t much better. Dipper hummed along only out of principle, and because the song was too damn catchy.

It was around noon when the twins finally pulled into Gravity Falls, into the familiar weird pattern of streets and outdated advertisements and people who weren’t sure if they were country bumpkins or not, despite the fact that the mall had just expanded and there were now three whole restaurants and everyone had smartphones. Mabel kept her head out the window and sang or hummed along to the songs on her playlist, occasionally pausing to spit hair out of her mouth.

Despite the danger he knew they faced, Dipper still felt a swelling in his heart as he regarded the sleepy town he’d come to call home-away-from-home. He even joined Mabel in belting out “Come Sail Away” as they took a right down the street that led to the Mystery Shack, probably scaring off woodland animals and tourists. He felt a twinge of relief when he checked in the rearview mirror and saw that they weren’t being followed.

Finally, two more songs later (“Little Talks” and “We Are Young”), they pulled into one of the “Employees Only” parking spaces in front of the Mystery Shack. As soon as Dipper turned off the ignition, Mabel whooped and threw her hands in the air.

“We’re _home!”_ she yelled, then kicked open the car door and jumped out into the sunlight. “We’re _back,_ Gravity Falls!” she shouted into the sky. “You better be ready!”

Dipper got out of the car and squinted up at the sun. It was hard to feel pessimistic on a day like this, but the nagging part of his brain managed to pull it off. He sighed and put on a happier face.

“Come on, sis, let’s get our stuff inside.” He ducked into the backseat to grab his suitcase. Mabel heaved a duffle bag over her shoulder and held her bag in her other hand. Together they marched to the door, where Dipper struggled with the key for a few moments before turning the handle, and then Mabel pushed her way in and dropped the duffle bag on the floor with a loud _thump._

Dipper flipped the switch on the side of the wall and was relieved to see that no small animals had decided to take up residence while they were gone. “We’re home!”

“We’re home!” Mabel echoed him, and she beamed at her brother. “I can’t believe we live here now.”

He grinned back at her. “Me either.” He pointed with his foot at a large dark spot on the floor. “Hey, that stain’s still here, it’s like seven years old now. Gremloblin spit’ll do that, I guess. Maybe if we get some vinegar -”

“Man, I am so excited to have _privacy_  for the first time in four years,” said Mabel, rolling her eyes. “I mean, my roommates were great. Mostly. Jenna was crazy. But this is gonna be awesome!”

“Same here, you have no idea how disorganized boys can be.”

Mabel raised an eyebrow at her brother. “Says the guy who didn’t use a laundry basket until he turned 15 -”

“I’ll bet you money that you never found a _used condom_  on the floor of your apartment kitchen,” Dipper challenged her, grimacing at the memory.

She cringed. _“Gross!_ No, I haven’t, you win. Who was - ?”

“Jeff.”

“Of course. Hey, if you take these bags upstairs, I’ll go get the rest out of the car.”

“Considering most of those bags are yours…” Dipper trailed off, but Mabel headed back out to the car, pretending not to hear.

He left the duffle bag for the time being and brought the two suitcases up the stairs, left Mabel’s in the hall and dragged his down to the room where they had spent the summers of their teenage years.

Now it was decorated to house only one; a good sized bed sat beneath the triangle-shaped window, a writing desk and multiple bookshelves against the right wall, a dresser next to the closet, an old school TV, and a cushy loveseat.

Dipper dropped his suitcase by the door and went to drag Mabel’s to her room. She had taken their Grunkle Stan’s old room, which now looked drastically different, and filled with much better furniture.

When he got back downstairs, the duffle bag had been joined by another suitcase and two backpacks. He heaved a sigh directed at his sister and her copious amounts of stuff, then took as much as he could carry upstairs.

It took a few trips, but eventually everything was moved in, and the twins took a break, relaxing briefly on the couch.

“I feel like such an adult right now,” said Mabel delightedly, looking around the room. “We just moved into a _house!_ That's like, a weirdly big deal."

“Yeah,” Dipper agreed absentmindedly; now that the distraction of manual labor was over, his suspicions and worries were starting to creep back into his head, and he couldn’t shake them out, not even with Mabel radiating the emotional equivalent of sunshine and rainbows.

“Are you not even a little bit concerned?” he asked, and it sounded rude, and he didn’t realize it until after the words left his mouth, hurriedly adding, “I just - I’m really nervous. This all - this all is great, but I’m still _really_ nervous.”

“I’m nervous too,” Mabel replied, frowning. “Honestly, I just don’t feel like thinking about it.” She crossed her legs. “Tell me more about that ritual thing.”

Dipper could tell she was doing her best to be serious, and he hoped she knew how much he appreciated it. “Okay, uh, I’ll go get my book.” He hurried upstairs and dug through his suitcase to find the book. It was easily recognizable, as the cover had been almost completely burned away, and what was left was scorched black leather. He retrieved it and dashed back downstairs, sliding onto the couch and rifling through the pages.

“Okay, it’s in here somewhere, look for something like ‘soul bonding-‘“

“Found it!” Mabel pointed at a page. “‘Soul Bonding Ritual,’” she read. “‘A last resort with supernatural involvement’...I can’t make out that word...‘ties the souls and minds of both beings together until the death of the mortal.’ Wow.”

Dipper read on. “Can’t read that...er, ‘creates a shared headspace for the individuals, which can be accessed by a physical joining of the minds.’ What??”

“‘Eventually the mortal and immortal will be able to communicate mentally with each other through the shared headspace, and will share each other’s thoughts, emotions, and memories.’ Holy _cow,_ Dip,” said Mabel, staring down at the book. “You can’t really be considering this.”

“What other choice do we have? With a soul bond, there’s no way that the immortal could harm the mortal in any way, look, ‘to an extent, the individuals will experience the same sensations as each other, especially injury. Despite the lack of a physical form, the immortal would still feel immense discomfort if the mortal is injured,’” he recited, pointing at a paragraph. “So even if he tried to hurt me, he’d -”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Mabel held up her hands. _“You?_ Why’d you assume it’s you who’s gonna do this soul bond thing??”

Dipper shrugged helplessly. “It’s kind of my fault in the first place?”

“Not even, it’s Elliott’s fault!”

“If I hadn’t kept the journal where it could be seen -”

“It was with all your personal stuff, he was the one snooping around!”

Dipper struggled to come up with a rebuttal. “He was _my_ roommate?” he said lamely.

Mabel sighed. “Dipper, I can take care of myself, you know. I would do this soul bond thing if it meant that we wouldn’t be in danger anymore. You don’t have to ‘take care of me.’” She made quotation marks with her fingers. “I’m not your baby sister. I’m the _older_ one.”

“Okay, well, first off, we’re twins, it doesn’t matter who’s older, and I _know_ that I don’t have to take care of you or anything, it’s just - I feel like this is something that I have to do,” said Dipper, glancing down. “I mean, I was the one always pulling us into crazy adventures when we were kids.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to be saddled with a freakin’ _demon_ in your head for the rest of your life!” Mabel exclaimed. “You know I don’t blame you for any of that!”

Dipper shook his head. “No, I know, I - look, it’s gotta be me,” he said firmly. “I wouldn’t put you through that.” He fixed her with a steady look. “And you know I’d give everything to protect you.”

Her pout eased into a half-smile. “I would too, you know that. You don’t have to take all the burdens, bro.” She punched him lightly in the shoulder. “Don’t be such a freakin’ martyr all the time.”

He rolled his eyes and raised his arm to block any further punches. “I’m not a martyr! That’s not what this is -”

“Oh, geez, is this a _big macho man_ thing?” Mabel complained. “I swear, Dip, if this is because of your manliness issues -”

“No, it’s not! And I don’t have manliness issues!” he protested, folding his arms.

“Whatever.” Mabel looked back to the book. “So, how would we even go about doing this? Do we need, like, a blood sacrifice, or...”

Dipper sighed. “It hardly matters, seeing as the immortal needs to _consent_ to it, and I can’t see Bill willingly binding his soul to mine for the next...let’s say 60 years.”

“He’s _immortal,_ 60 years is probably like ten seconds to him!”

“But he has, like, ‘big plans,’ or whatever, and he doesn’t want them to get messed with, especially considering they're involving _us._ ”

“True.” Mabel frowned down at the pages. _“Man,_ this is difficult!” she grumbled. “I mean, no way in hell are we making a deal with him, that’s always ended in a big fat mess, I mean, remember summer after junior year?”

Dipper shuddered. “Yeah, I still can't go near a Taco Bell without cringing. But...if we did it the right way, no loopholes -”

“Absolutely not,” said Mabel immediately. “He doesn’t play by our rules, Dipper! He does whatever th’ heck he wants. Don’t even think about it.”

“But, Mabel -”

From outside came the faint sound of tires screeching on asphalt.

“Shit,” Dipper muttered.

“Don’t swear,” Mabel whispered.

“Okay, this really isn’t the time -”

The sound of a car skidding to a stop.

“I _really_ hope that’s just a tourist who didn’t read the closed sign,” Mabel said, her voice at an abnormal pitch. “Did you lock the door?”

“Mhm. Windows, too.” Dipper grabbed the book and held it against his chest, his fingers marking the page they had been reading. “Mabel, we have to decide _now.”_

“We’re _not_ doing it,” she insisted, her eyes wide with fear, eyebrows furrowed above them. “What if you get hurt? What if other people get hurt?”

“But what if we all get hurt because we _didn’t_ do it?” Dipper asked, his heart jumping as the first stirs of panic started somewhere in his stomach. “It could be worse if we don’t!”

“But - but bonding your soul to _that?_ For all of eternity??” Mabel demanded. “I’d almost rather have whatever’s coming to us -”

“That could be anything!” Dipper exclaimed. “Death! Dismemberment! Getting our _teeth_ pulled out or our _skin_ melted off, or, like, our _fingers_ removed -”

Mabel shuddered and pulled a face. “Don’t be gross.”

“Don’t tell me you don’t remember what happened to that effigy of Donald Trump back in 2016, that was _horrifying,_ and this could be _worse!”_

 _“Sshh!”_ Mabel shushed her brother.

Indignantly, he said, “Don’t _shush_ me -”

“No, shut up! I thought I heard something!” she hissed. She shined the flashlight from her phone towards the door. Nothing was moving, but if they focused hard enough, they could hear what could possibly be footsteps on the gravel of the parking lot.

Dipper mouthed _shit_ and gestured for them to hide behind the couch, and they hurriedly scrambled to the floor. They pressed their backs against the fabric and turned to each other.

“We have to do it,” Dipper said instantly, keeping his voice low.

“We can’t!” Mabel argued, but she didn’t look as adamant as before. “I won’t let you! I’m sick of you trying to take the hit for _everything -”_

“This isn’t about me trying to take the hit, this is about saving our lives!”

She bit her lip hard and stared down at the wood floor and Dipper knew he had won.

“Fine,” she relented after a solid 20 seconds of silence. She looked Dipper in the eye, her expression grim. “Let’s do it.”

Dipper gave a quick nod, then stood up. The book tucked under his arm, he balled his free hand into a fist and glared at the door. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Wait! What are you gonna - ?”

But Dipper had charged out the door, slamming it hard behind him. “Bill!” he yelled.

He stumbled to a stop when he realized that the demon was barely three feet from him, looking somehow dark and intimidating inside the body of a slightly chubby, freckled ginger boy.

His words that were supposed to be confident and challenging sputtered and died as Billiott leered at him. “Aren’t you brave. Is this some kind of self-sacrifice thing? You for your sister? Come on, you’ve tried this a million times.”

Dipper took his first breath in about 15 seconds. “No.”

“Good, because you’ve been getting way too predictable, two years ago -”

“I want to make a deal with you,” Dipper said firmly, quickly, before second thoughts decided to make an appearance.

Billiott stared at him in surprise. “Really?”

“Really.” Dipper’s voice had steadied and he looked determinedly into Billiott’s yellow eyes.

Billiott’s mouth curved into a sneering smile. “You’re _very_ confident today. What do you want, exactly? What do you even have to _offer_ me? I will say that I'm always accepting lifetimes of servitude, but that's not really your _style,_ is it.”

Dipper opened the book and pointed to the heading. “I want this.”

Billiott glanced at it and immediately burst into laughter. “You want _this?_ You want _me_ in your _head?_ I’ve seen a lot of things, Pine Tree, but now I can really say I’ve seen everything.”

“Well -”

“Do you understand the consequences of what you’re asking? This isn’t a thing that’ll be over in a few months, _oh there’s a demon with full time access to everything in my brain,_ no big deal, just a day in the life - _no._ This is a _lifetime bond,_ this is me and you together forever.” Dipper shuddered and Billiott continued. “This is me being able to access your thoughts and your memories and your _emotions._ You want this?”

“I want this,” Dipper repeated, albeit reluctantly. “I also want you to never hurt another member of my family ever again, including me.”

Billiott shook his head, looking almost impressed. “I underestimated you, kid. You do have guts after all. But that’s a hefty price you’re asking for, what do you have prepared to give me in return?"

Dipper took a deep breath and let it out, crossed his fingers, cleared his throat.

“I’ll make you human. Permanently.”

Dipper wasn’t sure how many people could truly say they’d stunned Bill Cipher, but he had managed to join their ranks. The demon had fallen silent for a good ten seconds, and Dipper decided he liked him better when he wasn’t talking.  

He sighed and elaborated. “Okay, you’re obviously inhabiting a body for a reason, but I’m sure it’s inconvenient for you to only be able to occupy it part of the time and have to go along with what Elliott’s doing for the most part. So...I’ll find a way to give you a body.”

Billiott looked as though he was musing over it, and Dipper prayed to any god listening that it was possible.

“Would I be able to use my powers in the physical realm?” Billiott inquired, and there was a gleam in his eye that told Dipper more than was said.

“...yes,” Dipper replied grudgingly, knowing it was a loaded question. “And, your dream stuff, I don’t know exactly _what_ you do, but you could still do all of it, because you’ll have to sleep.”

“True. You make a tempting offer.” Billiott pointed at Dipper with his index finger. “Very tempting.

Dipper’s heart leaped. _I could actually pull this off._ “We have an extra room, you could live here,” he suggested hastily, even though it was a really _really_ horrible idea and he would rather remove a few fingers himself than live with _Bill Cipher._ “Mabel’s a good cook. And you can teach me magic!” he said excitedly - finally, something _good_ out of this deal.

Billiott laughed. _“You,_ wielding magic? I’d love to see that.”

Dipper inwardly sighed in relief when Billiott extended a hand and blue flames burst forth from his palm, crackling and spitting and consuming his entire hand up to his wrist without burning him. “Do we have a deal, then? A soul bond and your family’s safety for a human body and power in the physical realm?”

Heart threatening to jump out of his chest, Dipper looked Billiott in the eye and stepped closer. He held out his hand. “No tricks, or everything is off,” he threatened.

Billiott, grinning disconcertingly, took Dipper’s hand in his. The blue fire licked around their hands and a kind of electricity seemed to crackle between them. “No tricks,” he promised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **last edited: 3.24.17**


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prepare for a lot of dialogue, magic, and ~~poorly translated latin~~ a helpful anon has given me more proper latin translations, so they should make more sense. also prepare for the next few chapters being mostly domestic stuff.

The list of elements that made up the human body wasn’t really that long, but it was confusing, and Dipper had no idea where he was going to get half of the stuff he needed.

“Carbon is easy,” he muttered to himself, "salt is easy...they gotta have saltpeter in town...where th’ hell am I supposed to get four liters of _ammonia?_ ”

“Whatcha talking about?” Mabel slid onto the couch next to him and peered at the list. “Is this the human stuff?”

“Yeah, there’s a ton of weird crap in here. Look -” Dipper pointed to an item. “We have _lime_ in us. Not, like, the fruit, but the mineral. Which is weird. And apparently the powder form is highly unstable.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I dug us in deep, didn’t I,” he admitted.

Mabel clapped him on the back. “We’ve fallen and we can’t get up! So, lunch?”

“Yeah, whatever we have. I can go shopping tomorrow. Is Elliott awake?”

“Should be.” Mabel cleared her throat and yelled, “ELLIOTT!”

“Elliott’s not here right now, please take a message!” came a sing-song voice from down the hall.

Dipper was afraid if he rolled his eyes any more they would stay that way. “Bill, if you’re inhabiting him right now, get your ass out here and help us!” he called, not bothering to disguise his irritation.

“Ask nicely,” was the reply, but he could hear footsteps.

“ _Please_ get your ass out here and help us.”

“Better.” Billiott came out pushing bangs back from his face and for an instant, it was like they had never graduated, and Dipper was in his apartment with his roommate, getting ready to go to class or grab a coffee or study in the library.

But then Billiott bared his teeth in a very inhuman smile and the moment was shattered. “So, what do you need me for this time?”

“Just - where am I supposed to get _ammonia?”_

Billiott frowned. “That’s not accessible?” He walked over to the couch and sat down. Despite him having spent time in Elliott’s body for a good few months, he still walked jerkily and seemed to not have much of a sense of depth perception.

“Not for regular people.”

Billiott hummed something under his breath for a second, then clicked his fingers. A large bottle appeared on the floor, filled with some kind of liquid, and the whole house seemed to shake.

Dipper jumped back in shock. “ _Whoa!_ Okay!”

“There, ammonia. Put it in the freezer,” Billiott advised. “It needs to be kept at a low temperature.”

“I - okay.” Dipper somehow managed to lug the four-liter bottle into the kitchen. Billiott tagged along but didn’t offer to help, looking over Dipper’s shoulder and bumping his hip into the corner of the island. He cursed loudly and Dipper tried not to laugh.

Mabel was sitting at the counter eating something. “What’s that?” she asked.

“Ammonia,” Dipper grunted as he heaved it into the freezer, which was, thankfully, sparsely filled. “It needs to stay in here.”

“Dang! We have that much of _that_ inside _us?”_ She poked her stomach. “Bodies are weird. I dunno how anyone can be a doctor. Anyway, what else do we need?”

Dipper headed back out to the living room and consulted the list. “Uh, sulfur, sodium, phosphorus, calcium, nitrogen, hydrogen, potassium - geez, how am I supposed to get _any_ of this??” He looked pointedly at Billiott.

Billiott shook his head in both exasperation and amusement. “Do I have to do _everything_ for you?”

“When it comes to procuring random elements that I can’t just _buy,_ yes! It's the least you can do, considering we're letting you live in our house for the next 60 years.”

Billiott rolled his eyes and headed for the front door. “Fine. I’ll be back in a bit.”

As soon as the door closed behind him, Dipper made a loud noise of frustration and buried his head in his hands.

“You signed up for it,” Mabel reminded him as she handed him a sandwich.

Dipper just groaned again in response.

 

As it turned out, it took another four days to get all of the necessary elements together. The fridge and freezer had more chemicals in them than actual food, and the basement, taking up its old duties, once again became the place to dump weird materials. Once Dipper had given up on trying to get the increasingly harder to obtain elements himself, it was up to Bill to summon them.

The demon was conflicted on what was better: getting a body of his own or being a dick to the twins. He eventually settled on the former after a few days of annoying the hell out of them.

Elliott was getting more and more anxious as he continued to lie to his family about where he was and what he was doing. He said he had gone on an impromptu camping trip with some college friends and would head to the east coast soon, where he had landed an internship for the summer thanks to Bill, but he knew he couldn't keep up the pretense for too long. He was also terrified to go to business school considering his A’s weren't guaranteed anymore; when one side of a deal ends, so does the other.

Dipper was sorely tempted to call their Grunkle Ford and ask for advice, but he feared that Ford would try to interfere, and he didn't want more of his family involved, no matter what Bill promised. He and Mabel hardly left each other's' sides, discussing their issues in whispers when Bill was inhabiting Elliott’s body. Dipper was intentionally as vague as possible even when Elliott was himself; he had had a certain level of paranoia ever since their first encounter with Bill ten years ago, and that wouldn’t exactly go away with the demon living in their house.

They had discussions with Bill too, however reluctant and awkward they might have been, talking about the living situation and what exactly being at the shack would entail. Mabel was all too willing to take him clothes shopping once he was in his brand new human body, eager to put her fashion skills to use for her new target. Bill seemed content enough to make an attempt at living a normal human life, but it was very likely - almost certain - that he had a motive of some kind underneath his calm exterior.

Dipper had to admit, without the threat of Bill using them for some deadly plan, now that he was unable to hurt them, he was less uncomfortable around the demon. Bill was still fucking unnerving and straight up insane, but at least he wasn't about to kill them, or worse. He was also ridiculously picky and weirdly cultured, as the twins came to find during the few days they spent with Bill.

"You're like an immortal Hannibal Lecter," Dipper commented as Billiott dismissed another end table for his room on the grounds of its style not matching that of the other furniture already in the room. They were sitting on the couch looking at Dipper’s laptop.

Billott grinned widely, his teeth somehow sharper than before. "Then be grateful I'm not eating _you."_

Dipper shuddered, fear and disgust and something else. "Lecter only ate the rude," he shot back a bit too loudly, clicking over to another end table.

"That one's an ugly color," said Billiott dismissively, wrinkling his nose at the computer screen. "And you're not exactly _kind_ to me.”

"Yeah, well, you're _kind_ of a dick. You were planning on doing something terrible to us, remember?"

"That's what demons do, kid. We stir up shit. That one's too light."

Dipper rolled his eyes and got up. “Then _you_ find one, I’m bored of this.”

Billiott glanced up at him. “Don’t we have everything ready for the ritual?”

Dipper held up a hand and dug around in his pocket with the other. He unfolded a piece of paper and inspected it. “We...have...almost everything. We need potassium.”

Billiott’s face twisted in concentration for a few moments before he clicked his fingers and a bottle appeared in midair, which he caught with his right hand. He tossed it to Dipper, who barely managed to catch it.

“Is this it?”

“Sealed in hydrogen gas. It oxidizes.”

Dipper stared at it. “Wow. So, like, how can you just make things appear?” He sat back down.

“Allow me to remind you that matter can’t be created or destroyed, only _displaced._ I’m not making things appear out of thin air, I’m just summoning them from other places.” Billiott poked Dipper in the nose and he jerked away, irritated. “And no way am I telling you _how_ I do it.”

“Fine, whatever,” Dipper muttered, rubbing his nose more out of obligation than reaction to pain. “Let’s go make you human, then, I guess. MABEL!” he shouted.

There was the pitter-patter of footsteps, and then a few thumps as Mabel came down the stairs two steps at a time. “What’s up?” she asked, coming into the lounge and trotting over to the couch. She frowned at the computer screen. “Really? _That_ table?”

“At least _someone_ in this house has taste,” Billiott said pointedly, flashing a grin at Mabel and elbowing Dipper in the side.

Dipper resisted the urge to punch Billiott in the face for the umpteenth time, and said, “We’ve got all the ingredients, so, let’s get Bill out of Elliott’s body.”

“He’ll be grateful for that. Awesome, finally!” Mabel clapped her hands together. “Let’s do this! Oh - do we need, like, _clothes_ for you?” she asked Billiott a little awkwardly, her feet splayed apart. “Are you gonna show up naked? ‘Cause that would be...weird, to say the least.”

“Yeah, I’ll need clothes.” Billiott stood up and smoothed down his shirt. “But they’ll be temporary, they might not fit.”

“What determines what you’ll look like?” Mabel asked, glancing at Dipper. “Is it in the spell?”

Dipper and Billiott exchanged a look. “Mostly it’s up to the immortal,” said Dipper. “But the mortal doing the ritual has input too, like, it all depends on what we’re imagining as we go through with it.”

“It also draws from past human experiences, like how I looked the last time I was in a human vessel,” Billiott added. “It can get pretty confusing.” He made a sound of disgust as he looked down at Elliott's body. “Just as long as I don’t look like _this_ anymore, I’ll be happy.”

“Aw, c’mon, Elliott’s not that ugly!” Mabel said, though it was mainly out of loyalty, as she was laughing. The odd party of three headed towards the back door. “His last girlfriend obviously liked the way he looked, I mean, she was hot, remember Mackenzie?”

“‘Course I remember Mackenzie, Elliott wouldn’t shut up about her. I dunno, I still think she just wanted to get back at Steven Carmichael.” Dipper pointed to the kitchen. “I’ll get the stuff from here, can you guys handle the rest?”

Mabel snapped a fake salute and headed to the basement, where they had dumped some of the ingredients. Billiott followed Dipper into the kitchen.

“Go help Mabel,” Dipper directed to him as he opened the freezer.

“Trust me, you need me in here. Were you going to take out 35 liters of water by _yourself?”_ asked Billiott, grinning before opening the fridge and hunting around. “Quite a daunting task.”

“I was gonna make trips,” Dipper muttered mutinously as he hauled out the bottle of ammonia. "And use the hose."

It ended up taking multiple trips to drag all of the weird ingredients outside, where Dipper had drawn a summoning circle earlier that day in anticipation. It wasn’t just a basic circle, like the ones used for basic spells or summonings, but filled with criss-crossing lines, triangles, and circles, with odd, esoteric runes placed within. He had painstakingly copied it from another old, wrinkly, barely legible book that Billiott had pulled from somewhere and literally thrown at him.

At each cardinal point on the circle, Dipper had left items to represent each of the elements. Billiott had said that fire was his representative element - whatever that meant - so Dipper had set a candle on the north point. Earth was represented by soil and salt, air by a feather, and a dish of river water sat on the south point. Each element had its symbol drawn beneath it.

“Wow, what’s all this mean?” Mabel asked, sitting down to inspect the runes.

“They’re old alchemical symbols and letters,” Dipper replied, his head in the book as he went over the incantation for the fourth time. “I guess they were pulled from the original books written by alchemists centuries ago. They’re for binding the immortal soul to the human body. Which reminds me - clothes?”

“Right!” Mabel turned to go back inside. “I’ll just grab stuff from Elliott, I doubt he’ll notice.”

Billiott gestured towards the door. “I need to go too, I can’t be in a body already for this ritual. You’ll have to summon me separately.”

“What??” Dipper looked up from the book, annoyed. “You didn’t mention that earlier!”

“You didn’t need to _know_ earlier,” Billiot pointed out, looking smug and obviously trying not to laugh. He followed Mabel inside. “I’ll let Elliott sleep, go get that journal, chop chop!” He clapped his hands twice.

Dipper smacked himself in the forehead with the heavy book and set it on the ground, then went inside with the rest of them to retrieve the journals, grumbling about demons.

 

It was half an hour later that they were _finally_ ready to get started. The materials sat in a large pile in the center of the summoning circle and Bill, in his normal form, hovered above them, looking rather uninterested in everything, his little black arms hanging at his sides and his single eye half-closed. The twins sat in front of the circle, Mabel staring at the runes with interest and Dipper running his hands through his already tangled hair as he mouthed the words of the ritual to himself.

Mabel glanced at him. "You ready?"

Mouth dry, he nodded. "Ready. Bill?"

The demon gave him a thumbs-up.

Dipper grit his teeth and set his hands on the circle.  _"Invoco elementa terrae,"_ he began with some hesitation. He had lit the candle, and the flame flickered wildly and grew in size at his words. The other elements seemed to shift, the bowl of soil rattling and the water rippling and the feather hovering in midair. _“Rogo vos partes vitae in corpus humanum ligare."_

Mabel leaped back from the circle as it began to glow a bright white-red. “Whoa!” she exclaimed. “Is that supposed to happen??”

Dipper nodded but didn’t reply, as he couldn’t interrupt the incantation once he had begun. _“Efficio humanitatem ex elementis quattuor et hac anima."_ The pile of ingredients was shifting as well, each different piece combining into a solid mass and glowing red. The ones that had been sealed in containers somehow jumped out to join the others without being affected by oxygen.

Bill began to glow, too, his body ringed with red. “Huh, lookit that,” he commented, glancing at his arms and legs. “Weird.”

Dipper furrowed his eyebrows and stared intensely at the circle as it glowed around his hands. His heart was in his mouth and seemed to be beating out of his ears. The ritual was almost terrifyingly difficult, considering what was at stake. If he said one thing incorrectly, or had underestimated the amount of whatever material they needed, there could be a rebound effect.

The rebound effect could present itself in different ways, depending on what went wrong. Dipper could lose an ear or his nose or some of his organs; he could experience sudden lapses of memory or forget the entire English language; his soul could even displace itself or he could die. He had deliberately withheld this information from Mabel, guessing that if she knew, she would never let him go through with it, or she would volunteer herself in his stead.

Maybe it was the adrenaline rush of being hypothetical centimeters away from death, but Dipper felt almost as much excitement as he did fear. If he accomplished this - the creation of a human out of an immortal soul - he would be one of the only people _ever_ to have pulled it off. The exhilaration of that fact was almost enough to counteract the possibility of being mentally or physically maimed.

And then, Bill’s single eye blinked once before he vanished completely into thin air.

This time Mabel really yelped, clinging to Dipper’s arm. He bit his lip hard to keep from shouting, as moving his hand off of the circle could cause a rebound, and jerked his arm away from her. The pile of human ingredients was bright red, bright to the extent that it looked to be completely made of light.

Dipper took a deep breath. _“Homo fit!"_ he called. He repeated the phrase seven times. As he chanted, the glowing shape began to twist and turn, shifting from a lump of material to something more human-shaped. There was a torso, hips, legs sprouting forth from the conglomerate, then shoulders, arms, and a neck. The head was the last to form.

As the human body took shape, the ground heated under Dipper’s palms to the point that he swore his skin was burning. The glow of the circle and the body was blinding; Mabel had her hands over her eyes and Dipper closed his own against the light. His hands felt molded to the ground, part of the earth. He remembered then that he had some input on what the human Bill would look like. _Please don’t make him taller than me, make him short. Yeah, that’d be hilarious, make him like 5 n’ a half feet tall and skinny._ He grinned slightly at the prospect.

Dipper opened his eyes a fraction after a few seconds had passed. The body had fully formed and hovered an inch off the ground, very still. Dipper took a deep breath and shouted, _“Vive!"_ and the glow of the circle vanished.

He instantly shut his eyes tight, seeing as there was suddenly a naked man in front of him. “ _Geez,_ right. Mabel, where’re -”

There was a thump as she tossed the clothes onto the steaming ground. Dipper kept his eyes closed as he heard the man shift about and sit up.

“Wow, this is _weirdly_ accurate. Look at my _hands!_ I didn’t know fingers could get this long, that’s new. Am I supposed to have this many knuckles? Did Elliott have this many? This seems like too many.” Bill’s voice was deeper than it had been before, due to human male vocal chords, but his fast-paced manner of speech and inflections hadn’t changed.

“I’m sure you have the appropriate number of knuckles, just put the clothes on,” Dipper said impatiently, keeping his eyes shut.

“Yeah, yeah.” There were a few seconds of irritated noises, swearing, and the sounds of fabric rustling before Bill said, “You can open your eyes now, prudes.”

When Dipper opened his eyes the glowing circle was still seared into them, and he rubbed them to get the last of the feeling out. With some reluctance, he looked at Bill’s self-designed human body for the first time.

To Dipper’s utter and complete disappointment, Bill was not 5’6, rather something around 6 feet tall, a good few inches above Dipper. He was white, thinner than Elliott was, and the clothes were slightly large on him, but not to a comical extent. He had a frown on his face as he ran his hands through his hair, which was short and blonde, with dark brown roots that were obvious when he pushed up his bangs. He looked almost like a regular person - oh. Nope. He bared his teeth in a grimace and Dipper almost cringed away when he saw Bill’s abnormally sharp teeth. His eyes, too, were the same inhuman shade of yellow as Billiott’s had been, and his pupils were almost cat-like in shape.

Bill grinned broadly when he saw the twins staring at him. “What, not what you’d expect?”

“I figured you’d be shorter,” said Mabel with a shrug.

“I _hoped_ he’d be shorter,” Dipper muttered.

Bill just laughed and continued inspecting his limbs. “So, I gotta know, big important question - how far back can I bend my fingers?”

“ _Don’t_ \- don’t do that,” said Dipper quickly, raising his hands; he didn’t want to take Bill to the hospital on the account of not knowing the limitations of the human body.

Bill just shrugged and pushed hair out of his face. “Well, I’m a person! Congratulations, Pine Tree, you’ve done what hardly any human could, you put an immortal soul in a mortal body.”

Mabel slung an arm around Dipper’s shoulder. “It’s ‘cause I’ve got the smartest little brother in the world!” she boasted in a sing-song.

He was flattered, but he gave her an exasperated look anyway. “I’m not your _little_ brother, and it’s really not a matter of intelligence -”

“Oh, quit being so modest,” Mabel huffed.

Bill managed to stand up without falling back over, his feet splayed apart awkwardly. He extended a hand to the twins, who were still sitting. Mabel took his hand, staring at it in wonder, and jumped to her feet, brushing dirt off of her sweater. Dipper only reluctantly grasped Bill’s hand with his own and allowed the demon to pull him to his feet.

He swore he didn’t imagine the way Bill’s gaze flickered down his body and back up to his eyes, or how Bill’s oddly warm hand clenched around his own for a fraction of a second. But then the moment had passed and Bill was flipping through the leather-bound book, which had somehow shot from the ground into his hands.

“You ready for the soul bond ritual, then?” he asked Dipper, not looking up from the page he was on.

“Uh, yeah, I guess we should just...get that out of the way, geez. Okay, I’ll draw another circle.” Dipper retrieved a branch and headed over to another patch of dirt.

Mabel came over with him, standing on her tiptoes to whisper to him. “You said you had input on his appearance, right?” she said quietly, glancing over her shoulder at Bill.

“Er, yeah -”

“So did you make him _that_ cute on purpose??” she demanded, giggling.

Dipper made a disgusted face. “Mabel, you can’t possibly have a crush on _Bill Cipher._ I’m sorry, but I’d have to disown you as my sibling.” He chanced an over-the-shoulder look at Bill, who was mouthing the words of the ritual, his dark eyebrows furrowed in concentration, and _okay, he's a little hot. I_ really  _hope that wasn't_ my  _input._

She rolled her eyes and shoved him, and he almost toppled over. “It’s not a crush, dummy, but _come on._ Are you sure -”

“The only thing I attempted to do was make him short,” said Dipper as he started to mark out the circle with the stick, determinedly looking away from his sister. “And that obviously failed, he’s a fucking giant.”

“Don’t swear,” Mabel chided him, punching him lightly in the shoulder, following him as he walked. “He’s not that tall, only like dad’s height.”

“Well, it’s not fair,” Dipper grumbled. “He shouldn’t be taller than me and be able to levitate things and be attractive -”

“HA!” Mabel exclaimed loudly, grinning, and pointed a finger in her brother’s face. “So you admit that he’s cu -”

“Mabel, shut up!” he hissed, clapping a hand over her mouth. He moved it before she could lick it, as he knew she would, and she just continued to laugh. Fuming, he stabbed the stick into the ground.

Bill assisted with drawing the inner lines and runes, then moved the items representing the base elements over to the new circle. Mabel watched anxiously as the two men stepped into the circle and took their positions in the middle of it, the book between them.

Discomfort prickled at Dipper’s skin as he sat across from Bill, and he could practically feel the demon staring at him, but he didn’t voice it or shy away. He didn’t return the look, either, choosing instead to stare at the book and at his hands. They were trembling as he placed them on the appropriate spot in the circle and began the incantation.

 _" _Invoco elementa terrae,"__ he said, the same as before, calling the elements. They reacted in the same way, which was reassuring. _“Rogo vos nostras animas in unum ligare."_ The circle began to glow, this time with an intense green light, thrumming and vibrating beneath them.

When Bill spoke, his voice was hard and clear and seemed to ring. _“Rogo vos nostras mentes una ligare. Patimur partientem nostrarum cogitationum memoriaque nostra nostraque concitantis passionis.”_ Under instruction, he leaned forward and touched his forehead to Dipper’s. This was the ‘physical joining of the minds’ that the book spoke of. The feeling of the demon’s skin touching Dipper’s was somehow amplified a thousand times and he really hoped his face wasn’t burning red with the close contact.

He exhaled, kept his gaze down, and continued. _“Conectite omnes nostrum iam. Dolor meus dolor suus est.”_

_"Gaudium meum gaudium suum est."_

They recited in unison, _"Vita mea vita sua est,"_ and, following instructions again, they locked their hands together. As their skin touched once more, Dipper was surprised that Bill’s hands actually felt  _human,_ truly human. The person across from him was just that - a _person._

In that moment, it was the most amazing thing in the world, that a demon in a person’s body was holding his hands and talking and breathing, and that he had _created_ him. For an instant, Bill’s intent didn’t matter, his personality or his actions; the only thing that mattered was that he was here, that he was human, that he was incredibly, miraculously _alive._

 _“Iungimus mentes nostras et corpora una,”_ said Bill calmly, _“ceteram mortalem vitam. Quia nunc donec ad mortalitatem morior, nostrae mentes unum sunt.”_

Dipper heard Mabel gasp as the glowing lines rose from the earth and began to loop around the two men, around and around in spirals. They, too, were glowing now, their bodies tinged with green.

 _“Creo locum pro nobis et nobis tantum,”_ Dipper recited, his voice shaking. There was no going back.

_“Nullum arcanum vel mendacia; simplices sumus.”_

_“Iungite animas nostras,_ _”_ they said together. _“Iungite mentes nostras. Iungite animas nostras. Iungite mentes nostras.”_

Something was happening inside Dipper’s head, something painful, something was burrowing inside his skull and digging, pushing walls apart, carving out a new space, sparks were going off behind his eyes and everything hurt, his fingers dug into Bill’s skin and he was sure Bill was experiencing the same sensation of having his mind being pulled apart -

“ _U_ _num sumus!”_ they said with some difficulty, and then the real pain hit.

It was incomparable to anything Dipper had ever experienced or had ever heard of, he wouldn’t compare it to breaking his leg or getting bitten by a wolf or anything, it was pain that seemed to start at the back of his head and move forward, pushing and crawling in all directions and worming its way into his brain.

He felt an explosion of light and color and sounds and images, every emotion a person could feel at once and more, a billion indistinguishable thoughts, none of them were his but suddenly they _were,_ they felt as natural as breathing, they fit nicely into little niches and holed themselves away and found homes for themselves in his brain, which had expanded to hold these hundreds of thousands of billions of emotions and thoughts and memories that would sit alongside his own.

It was _killing_ him, it was in his blood and it was working its way down to his heart and into his lungs and he couldn’t _breathe,_ he was terrified that his head was literally going to _explode,_ so much was being forced into it. He felt invaded, attacked, everything probing away at him and taking up space and leaching his memories, feeding them to a different source. _Exposed_ was the better word - his entire self was on display, everything that made him who he was, it was suddenly there for the taking, and Bill was taking it. Nothing was just _his_ anymore, it was _theirs._ That specific kind of discomfort joined the splitting pain that seemed to break his head apart.

Finally, the pain started to recede, slowly trickling out of his skull and his bloodstream and leaving scars, leaving a horrible ache in his head. Eventually he became aware of the physical effect; his forehead hurt from how hard he and Bill were leaning into each other, his hands were practically numb from being squeezed, there was cold sweat trickling down his neck, and his jaw had seized up, his teeth bared in a grimace. Green light still surrounded them, bound them together in lines and circles, wrapped around their bodies.

With effort, Dipper opened his eyes and read the last few lines of the incantation. _“Immortalis,”_ he said weakly, his voice cracking, _“unum sumus.”_

Bill, who was breathing heavily, paused to say, “ _Mortalis, unum sumus,”_ in a low, growling voice.

Together, they managed to say the final lines. _“Animae nostrae ligatae sunt una ceteram mortalem vitam. Unum sumus.”_

The green light died but neither of them moved, their foreheads still pressed together and their hands locked. Their breathing had synchronized and their chests rose and fell in unison.

When Dipper opened his eyes, Bill was staring at him. He forced himself not to look away.

_Can you feel it?_

_Yeah,_ Dipper responded, and he nearly jumped when he realized that neither of them had said a word out loud.

Bill cracked a grin, baring his pointed teeth. _So when we touch our foreheads like this, we can communicate. Isn’t that nice, we can have our own private conversations._

Dipper frowned. _There’s nothing I’d tell you that I wouldn’t tell Mabel._

Bill’s smile grew. _That could change._ He pulled his head away before Dipper could reply and the connection was broken. He rubbed his forehead with a pained expression and Dipper did the same.

Then Mabel threw herself at him, knocking him to the ground. “ _Ow!_ Mabel, what the hell -”

“You were _screaming,_ Dip!” she said shrilly, looking horrified, her big brown eyes almost comically large. “You were both screaming! I - I knew I couldn’t interrupt the ritual, but _Jesus Louises,_ you looked like you were in so much pain!”

“It hurt like all hell,” Dipper confessed, putting his hand back to his forehead. His mind felt sensitive, like a bruise he was daring to touch. It was throbbing with everything that had just been forced into it. He saw memories of events he had never been to, flashes of the Great Wall of China and what looked like a coronation and a battle between two armies carrying ancient Roman weapons. “There’s - _God,_ there’s so much weird crap in my head -”

“ _My_ memories are weird crap? I’m sorry, but I’m the one who got all of the uninteresting, embarrassingly _juvenile_ memories and mine are weird crap?” Bill retorted. He had taken his hand off his head but his expression was still pained

“Oh, whatever!” Dipper’s aching head was not helping with his irritability. “ _Ugh,_ it’s like I just memorized every single history textbook ever.” He frowned. “You met _Napoleon?”_

“ _Met_ him? I practically _made_ him,” said Bill dismissively, leaning back. “You’re really afraid of _cows?”_

“ _What?”_ Mabel turned to her brother, laughing.

He shot Bill a look and snapped, “Shut up! Cows are, like, these giant lumbering things with _horns_ and _hooves,_ and they can _stampede -_ ”

Bill just laughed and got to his feet, shaking off the last of the pain from the ritual. Dipper and Mabel stood up as well, the latter finally releasing the former.

“You’re sure you’re okay now?” Mabel asked her brother anxiously.

“I’m fine, I - I’m sorry that freaked you out,” he said, looking away. “I didn’t know it would be like that, it said it would hurt, but - I didn’t think that much.”

She sighed. “Well, it’s over.”

“Yep, I’m bonded to a demon for the rest of my life.” Dipper frowned. “God, I’m bonded to a _demon_ for the rest of my _life.”_

Dipper felt an arm loop around his neck. “You asked for it!” Bill said cheerfully, his mouth way too close to Dipper’s ear, and he jerked away quickly.

“I know, I know,” Dipper said resignedly, deliberately avoiding touching Bill in any way. He glared at the demon briefly but hurriedly turned away, unable to look at him for too long, _stupid asshole with his stupid human body, what the fuck -_

Mabel clapped her hands. “So, dinner? Bill, I’ll show you how the stove works.”

Bill seemed to perk up, bouncing on the balls of his ill-fitting shoes. “That’s right, there’s so much I need to learn now! _Excellent,_ it’s time to go domestic!”

Dipper groaned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **last edited: 3.24.17**


	4. Chapter Four

Dipper was dreaming, and he knew it, but that didn’t make the weird black hands chasing him any less terrifying.

“ _Shit shit shit,”_ he swore under his breath as he tore through a seemingly endless stretch of undergrowth, pushing branches and thorny bushes out of his path. It was a moonless night - in fact, this world didn’t even have a moon - and Dipper couldn’t see his hands or his feet beneath him, much less the ground itself.

He glanced behind him - _okay, yep,_ the hands were still coming after him. They were attached to noodle-like arms that seemed to stretch forever. He drew a long, shaking breath through his mouth and continued running. His legs were starting to tire and his chest felt tight; he wouldn’t be able to keep this up for long.

Just as he began to gasp for air, the undergrowth gave way to a marsh, and he would have fallen face-first into mud if he hadn’t skidded to a stop. He couldn’t even catch his breath before he felt something yank at the hoodie he was wearing. He yelped and jumped forward, his feet sinking into the mud.

With some effort, he pulled them out and continued running, but he was slowing down, both from exertion and the environment, and he could feel the creepy black hands reaching for him, grabbing at his clothes -

Suddenly his feet were stumbling through grass, not mud, and the hands were gone, and the chill of the dark night had given way to sunlight and warmth.

Taken aback, Dipper tripped over a rock and fell over, rolling down a gently sloped hill before coming to a stop.

Coughing and spitting grass out of his mouth, he sat up and looked around him. The scenery, rolling grassy hills dotted with trees and patches of flowers, could not be more different than the previous place.

“How th’ hell…” Dipper muttered, rubbing his head and looking around. Dreams were weird, but they weren’t usually weird in this particular way.

He had a strange prickling feeling on the back of his neck, like he was being watched. He turned around, planting his hands in the grass, but there was nothing behind him.

His suspicion wasn’t alleviated by the lack of an obvious voyeur, and he got to his feet to look in all directions. He appeared to be the only living thing around.

Then he looked up. His eyes grew wide in shock and horror and his legs gave way beneath him. He fell to his knees and he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

In the clear, cloudless sky, there was a rip, a _tear_ , like a great gaping wound left to fester. Even as he watched, blood pooled at the edges and blisters leaked trails of pus. The “skin” was frayed and discolored, staining the perfect blue.

It was nauseating, and Dipper clapped a hand over his mouth, but he still couldn’t look away. It was terrifyingly fascinating, and as much as he wanted to run in the opposite direction, he longed to know more, to know what it meant, if it symbolized something…

He frowned, remembering that there was currently a dream demon residing in his house, and wondered if it was something of Bill’s creation.

If he squinted his eyes, he could try to see into the tear. In the darkness, something flashed as though caught by light. It was yellow - no, purple - no, blue -

A wide, staring eye swiveled and focused on him. As his heart pounded in his mouth, the pupil dilated, empty darkness filling the iris, and suddenly the wound was tearing itself apart, blood dripping and pouring onto the blue sky and the eye was _huge -_

Then the great wound was plunging down, falling from the sky, coming at him, and he _screamed,_ trying to scoot away, but his legs still weren’t working and all he could do was shield his face with his hands, the iris flashing between yellow and indigo, the pupil prepared to swallow him whole -

 

His eyes shot open to see the same shade of yellow.

“AAAAAH!” he shouted, instinctively swinging his arm to attack whatever the hell was in front of his face.

His fist connected with bone and there was a surprised grunt. The unwelcome weight on him was lifted and he sat straight up, his chest heaving, ready to continue punching his assailant.

Kneeling over him was Bill, who was rubbing his head and looking disgruntled. “Good morning to you too, kid,” he said, glancing over at Dipper. One side of his mouth quirked up. “You throw a mean right hook.”

Dipper gaped at him soundlessly for a few seconds before demanding, “Why the hell are you one, _in my room_ and two, _on my bed??”_

“‘Star said you needed to wake up because we have things to do. But I was watching you sleep for a bit,” said Bill casually, sitting back on Dipper’s legs. He frowned at Dipper’s expression. “Is that weird?”

“ _Yes,_ it’s weird!”

“I’ll remember that, then.”

“So why watch me sleep?” Dipper asked, mildly disturbed.

Bill shrugged and a few hazy thoughts flickered through Dipper’s mind. “It’s the first time I’ve seen somebody sleep in person. You thrash around a lot.”

“Did _you_ not sleep? I know the couch is kind of uncomfortable -”

“No, I did, I woke up like an hour ago -”

“Wait,” Dipper interrupted, the events of his odd dream flashing through his head. “You didn’t make up my dream?”

Bill shook his head. “I saw some of it. Looked pretty weird. I don’t think we’re able to completely see into each other’s heads yet.”

“Yeah, the book said that comes with time.”

“So what exactly happened in it?” Bill propped his chin up on his hands, eyes wide in probably mock curiosity.

Dipper was struggling for the right words when he remembered. “I’ll _show_ you!” he said suddenly, grinning. “I almost forgot that I could do that! Here, um -”

Without further prompting, Bill leaned forward and bumped his forehead against Dipper’s. _Show me,_ he thought, his words placed directly in the foreground and startling Dipper. The headspace was glowing a dull gray-blue, curiosity and suspicion and some bright violet fear that was starting to evaporate away. Dipper was bombarded with everything going on in Bill’s mind, as he was before, but he managed to push it aside and focus hard on the dream. He tried to recall it in a linear fashion, but the picture of the gaping wound in the sky and the eye inside it was dominant, flickering in and out. Dipper felt Bill flinch when he saw it.

 _I haven’t seen anything quite like that before,_ the demon thought. _You’ve got some weird stuff in your head._

_Does it mean anything?_

_Not sure. Show me those hands again._

Dipper brought back the creepy black hands that chased him through the forest. He felt Bill’s forehead crease.

_Now those I recognize._

_Really? What do they mean?_

_I don't remember the specifics,_ Bill replied. _I’d have to poke around in the archives._ His mind was blank.

Dipper pulled away and the mingling of their thoughts was broken. “The ‘archives?’” he asked.

Bill waved his hand. “People have been dreaming for millennia. I’ll just try to find other notable times someone’s dreamed of the same thing.” He yawned. “It’s a bit of an effort, but if I’m ever bored…”

“But...no one’s ever seen that same wound in the sky?”

Bill shrugged again. “Just because I haven’t seen it yet doesn’t mean it hasn’t appeared in somebody’s head. I prioritize my time.”

Dipper sat back against his pillows and folded his arms against his chest. “Do you have to be so cagey about _everything?”_ he asked with some irritability. He hadn’t planned on waking up and immediately dealing with this mess.

Bill just grinned knowingly, his head lolling back at an absurd angle. “You know me! So, what does it mean when my stomach hurts?”

“You’re hungry. Get off my legs so we can get breakfast.”

Thankfully, Bill complied, and slid off the bed, smoothing out his shirt. Except -

“Hey, w - that’s _my_ shirt!”

Bill glanced down at it. “Oh, yeah. Elliott’s clothes were too big in the chest. Chubby guy. Yours fit a little better, but they’re still short.” He was wearing one of Dipper’s button-down shirts with his only pair of jeans that didn’t have holes in the knees. The sleeves had been pushed up to his elbows and the top two buttons were undone.

It was just so _disconcerting._ Dipper found he couldn’t really look at Bill for very long - _attractive demon-human wearing his clothes_ wasn't something he needed to be confronted with so soon after waking up - so he focused his gaze on a point beyond his head. “Get out, I need to change.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Bill tilted his head slightly and disappeared.

Dipper nearly fell off the bed in surprise. _He can teleport?? Okay, that’s...okay._

Shaking his head, he hobbled out of bed and pulled on some sweatpants and an old shirt before going downstairs. Mabel was already awake and eating cereal, if it could even be called that, as it was mostly crumbs and sugar.

She looked up when his footsteps announced his arrival. “Hey! You slept forever, you okay?”

“M’ fine, what time is it?”

She glanced at her phone. “Almost ten. So today I was thinking -”

She was interrupted when Bill materialized in the doorway to the kitchen. “ - what the _frack!”_ she yelped.

He gestured at the kitchen. “So is food, like, just _there,_ or do I have to do something? Last night it was just there.”

“You can _teleport?”_ Mabel demanded. “I wish _I_ could do that. Not fair.”

Bill glanced at Dipper. “I can use all my powers. It was part of the bargain.” His face was annoyingly smug.

Scowling, Dipper pushed past Bill into the kitchen and got some bread out of the cabinet, then stuck it in the toaster. He had barely pushed the tab down before Bill was standing over his shoulder.

“What does _that_ do?” Bill poked the toaster, looking genuinely confused.

“It’s a toaster. It - you don’t know what it does?” Dipper asked, raising an eyebrow. He moved an appropriate distance away from Bill as he spoke. _Does he know anything about personal space?_

“The last time I was human was in the 1600's, little tree. They didn’t even have _plumbing._ ” He shuddered. “Horrible.”

“Okay, fair enough, but seriously, you don’t know basic appliances? I thought you were just messing with me yesterday when you asked what the _dishwasher_ did.” Dipper turned to the fridge to get out the jam, which had gotten shoved to the back behind larger cartons and dishes.

“I’ve had better things to focus on in the last hundred years. Can’t blame me for being curious! Hmm…”

Dipper turned around just in time to see Bill was trying to stick his hand in the toaster.

“What the hell are you _doing??”_ Dipper managed to practically leap across the room and grab Bill’s hand before the idiot burned himself.

“Why -”

“It’s hot, you could’ve gotten burned!” Dipper said, exasperated, though the whole thing was pretty funny and he couldn’t help smiling. “Y - do _not_ put your hand in the toaster. Or any other appliances, for that matter.”

In the other room, Mabel started laughing. “What happened?” she called through her giggles.

“This _dumbass_ tried to burn his fingers off,” Dipper replied, and Bill rolled his eyes.

“You didn’t tell me what it did! ‘Course I was gonna check it out.”

“Curiosity killed the cat,” Dipper reminded him.

Bill just grinned and jerked his hand out of Dipper’s grip. “But satisfaction brought it back,” he replied almost _lasciviously,_ winking, and looked back at the toaster. Before Dipper could even begin to react, the bread popped up, accompanied by a loud noise, and the demon _shrieked,_ jumping half a foot off the floor and scrambling back into the lounge.

Dipper fell against the island practically wheezing with laughter, and Mabel was doing the same, he heard her fall out of her chair with a _crash._ He was laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe, turning red in the face.

Bill came back into the kitchen exercising extreme caution, tiptoeing on the floor and clinging to the opposite wall. He pointed at the toaster and demanded, “What the hell was that??”

Dipper managed to stop laughing for a few seconds and said, “Okay - okay, so you put bread in there, right? And then it - it gets burned, and then it pops up. Okay?” He hiccuped.

Bill just looked bewildered and disgruntled. “But _why?_ Why bother with the  _danger?"_

“It - it tastes good, I dunno. Toasters aren’t exactly safety hazards.” Shaking his head, still smiling, Dipper slathered a generous amount of jam onto the toast and took a bite. He gestured at the toaster and asked, his voice muffled, “Want some?”

Bill leaned back against the counter to inspect the toaster from a safe distance. “Sure,” he replied carefully, his eyes still trained on the appliance.

A few minutes later, they had gotten breakfast with no further incident, and Dipper loaded the dishes in the dishwasher alone because he didn’t trust Bill not to drop them on “accident.”

“So what happened to Elliott?” Bill asked, leaning against the island, still avoiding anything too electronic.

“He left this morning,” said Mabel. “Got out as fast as he could once we told him that we took care of the whole ‘demon inhabiting his body’ problem.”

“So I can sleep in a bed tonight?”

“Yep! It’s infinitely more comfortable than sleeping on a couch.”

Dipper closed the dishwasher and poured the last of the coffee into a mug. “Mabel, can you do laundry today? We should wash the sheets on that bed.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Bill nodded at the coffee mug. “What’s that?”

Dipper held it up. “This? Coffee.”

Bill motioned for him to continue.

Dipper tried to find the right words. “Okay, it’s like...bean...juice? How do I even describe _coffee?_ It’s made from crushed beans and it’s got caffeine in it, which helps wake you up if you’re tired. Practically lived off of coffee in college.”

“Can I try it?”

Dipper shrugged and held out the mug. “Sure, I guess. It’s black, I was gonna add some milk to it.”

Bill sipped at it and looked thoughtful. “Not bad. Strong.”

Mabel clapped her hands. “Okay, boys, finish up, because we’ve got a busy day ahead of us! We _may_ just fall into a heaping pile of debt, but at least we’ll have fun doing it, because we’re going _shopping!”_

Dipper made a disgusted face, just to keep up his image, but Bill was intrigued. “So we’re getting clothes for me, right?”

“Yeah, and just, like, other house stuff every person needs.”

“And why are we falling into debt?”

Mabel grimaced, wrinkling her nose. “Well, even though we got some financial aid and worked during college and got help from our parents, we still have about….er, 55,000 dollars in student loans to pay off, which is, _yikes.”_

Dipper reached out and punched Bill lightly on the arm. “So you’re getting, like, dollar store clothes.”

Bill assumed the expression of someone who had just been told of their loved one’s untimely death. “ _What?!”_ He shook his head violently. “No. Absolutely not. I didn’t become human just to look like a _slob._ You should see how I dressed when I was human last -”

“Well, you don’t have much of a choice in the matter,” said Dipper rather curtly; he wasn’t about to sacrifice years of hard-earned money just so this asshole could wear fucking Giorgio Armani or whatever. “I don’t know what it was like back then -”

“No, you know what? I’m fixing this.” Without another word, Bill turned and left, slamming the front door loudly behind him.

The twins exchanged a look.

Dipper headed out to the living room. “If he tries to drive _my car_  I’m literally going to kill him, I don't give a fuck about the soul bond.”

 

The door swung around and banged against the wall as Mabel pushed herself inside, using the bags in her arms as a battering ram. She set them down with loud thumps in front of the door to hold it open as the two boys followed her.

“I still can’t believe you spent over a hundred years telling people to bury _gold_ here,” Dipper commented as he hauled a heavy suitcase inside. It made a clanging noise as he dropped it next to the bags.

“Yeah, well, cults’ll do pretty much anything for the deities they worship,” said Bill cheerfully, dropping yet another bag on the floor. “Is there anything else in the car?”

“More gold, in the back,” Dipper replied, looking bewildered. “Seriously, _how_ is there so much gold??”

In response, the headspace displayed some gritty, very _very_ fuzzy memories of early settlers of Gravity Falls, men dressed in old-timey clothing lighting candles and chanting in unison and - _gross._ Dipper winced at the hazy sight of a dead man on an altar, blood pouring from a gash in his neck, more blood welling at the triangle carved into his chest.

Bill didn’t say anything, just went back outside. Dipper, nauseated from the memory, had to sit down.

Mabel was looking over a long strip of paper that detailed some of their purchase history. “So we sold…okay...that’s...hmmmm...right…” She rubbed at her chin, frowning.

Dipper glanced over at her. “Are you understanding anyth -”

“ _Help!”_

He grinned slightly, pushing the memories out of his head, and got out of the chair to peruse the paper. “What exactly is confusing?”

“Well, it’s not confusing, it’s just - geez, I can’t believe this.” She pushed some bangs out of her face, stunned. “We sold _this,_ right? And we made _this.”_

Dipper shook his head in disbelief. “I still can’t believe it. And there’s still so much, we could pay off our student loans, no problem.”

“It’s crazy!” Mabel lowered her voice. “It’s actually really helpful to have Bill as our new roommate.”

“It really is,” Dipper admitted begrudgingly.

“But we can’t tell him that.”

“Oh, God, no, never.”

There was another loud _clang_ as Bill dropped the other case of gold on the floor, and the twins jumped.

Mabel gestured behind her. “I’m gonna run the laundry, gotta wash all these clothes. You said the guest room sheets?”

“Yeah, and I threw some stuff in my basket upstairs,” said Dipper.

“Don’t forget that most of those shirts need to air dry!” Bill called as she left. “Check the tags!”

“I know!” she shouted back, and her footsteps faded up the stairs.

Bill and Dipper were left in a tense silence in which the latter looked determinedly in any direction but at the former.

“So -” Dipper began.

“- we should tackle this headspace thing,” Bill said, nodding.

Dipper’s stomach made an uncomfortable flip. “Yeah, I guess we should.”

They headed to the living room, where Bill sat on the couch and motioned for Dipper to do the same. With some hesitance, Dipper sat down a good few feet away from the demon.

“Okay, what I read was that the soul bond creates a shared space for us to, like, communicate, and share direct thoughts and things, but that’s only accessible when we, uh, have our foreheads touching, at least for now. But right now we kind of have access to each other’s memories and stuff, right? I mean I _just_ saw some of your memories,” Dipper said in a rush.

Bill frowned in thought, the headspace flickering with his ideas, too blurry and vague to make out, the colors indistinguishable. “Touch makes the connection stronger. When we’re apart, it’s harder to visualize all the stuff going on.” He rapped at his skull with his fist, then propped his chin up with his hand. “When we were out, and we were far apart, it was difficult to access the headspace, wasn’t it?”

Dipper nodded.

“But now, if I think about something, it should be clearer.”

Dipper closed his eyes and focused specifically on what Bill was thinking of. He was faced with a shaky image of himself, not that long ago, sitting in bed in his old dorm room and reading some textbook, his eyebrows furrowed and looking serious and studious.

“So you were inhabiting Elliott’s body then? How often were you possessing him?” Dipper asked cautiously.

“Eh, every couple days, sometimes only just once a week, it depends.” Bill stretched, his arms behind his head. “It was pretty entertaining, watching to see if you’d notice a difference.”

Dipper felt a pang of guilt. “Well, you were obviously good at it, ‘cause I never knew.” _I should have been paying more attention. I can’t believe I never noticed that Elliott was being possessed._

He groped around for another topic. “So...have you still been, er, ‘watching’ people?”

“Oh yeah, pretty often,” Bill replied casually, and Dipper was unnerved by the sudden miscellaneous images of himself and his sister that came up in Bill’s mind.

Disturbed, he did his damndest to push these thoughts away. “Okay, that’s _really_ creepy, but I won’t get into it now. I think - I want to try the forehead thing. It’ll probably be easier for us to figure stuff out if we get, y’know, the full experience.” As much as he disliked the whole ordeal of being symbiotically bound to a _demon,_ he would rather learn to understand the soul bond and the shared headspace it created as opposed to stumbling around in the dark. Considering his memories and thoughts were at stake, it would be wiser to put up with the contact.

“Reasonable enough.” Suddenly Bill’s hands were on Dipper’s _face,_ and he moved backward in surprise as thumbs pushed hair back from his cheeks and fingers held him by his jawline. Their eyes met for an instant and Dipper saw an odd kind of fireand then their foreheads were touching and all physical sensations were pushed aside.

Dipper had no time to leap to conclusions, as his mind was suddenly filled with an explosion of images, thoughts, sounds. His own voice, his sister’s voice, random voices and words that stood out on top of vivid flashbacks.

 _Yeesh, can you tone it down? You’re practically yelling at me,_ Bill thought.

I’m _yelling at_ you?? You’re _the one who’s yelling._

_Okay, okay, hang on._

The headspace quieted down on Dipper’s end, noises muting themselves and images pushed off to the side. It was like layering windows on a computer, like going on other websites while watching TV. He struggled to do the same, to move his own thoughts away.

With the here and now out of the way, they pondered the observable darkness. Dipper had initially perceived the headspace as something abstract and without a real look, but it really was like a new area had been carved out in his head specifically for the purpose of sharing himself. He allowed these thoughts to stay, to drift in the darkness like strings of light, but nothing else, keeping the rest behind him and out of the space as much as he could. He had to throw his whole weight against the imaginary door holding his thoughts back, trying to keep them away from Bill, and it was more of a challenge than he had perceived it to be. Still, he was able to keep most of himself out of the headspace, thinking only of exploring this new house of emotion.

Bill’s thoughts were along the same wavelength, just considering what exactly had come from the ritual. They were still forceful, almost knocking Dipper off his metaphorical feet, and there was a struggle there, like he was holding something back, like his thoughts could be even more powerful if he used no restraint.

 _I’ll admit this is pretty cool,_ Dipper thought.

_We did a good job, didn’t we? ‘Course, there’s a lot to know about these kinds of headspaces. Like…_

Dipper felt a prodding feeling on the sides of his head, close to his temples. _What’re you doing?_ he asked suspiciously.

Bill was nonchalant as he replied, _Looking at your memories. You’re still mad about what that guy said to you in 7th grade?_

 _Hey, what the hell, get out of there!_ Dipper protested, the headspace humming with anger and embarrassment, white and pink. _You can’t just look through my memories!_

Bill just laughed. _This is what_ you _wanted, Pine Tree, you agreed to this! You_ gave _me full access to your memories -_

_But I don’t want you looking through them! What do you even have to gain from that??_

_I like messing with you,_ Bill said simply. _It’s funny. You’re so high strung, and this just makes you weaker. Look at all these thoughts! Old, new, the good, the bad, and the ugly, all right here and available for me to search through whenever I feel like it._

Dipper was at a loss for words, and the headspace was a whirlwind of furious emotions and abstract thoughts all revolving around the fact that he fucking _hated_ how _exposed_ he was. It grew as a miniature thunderstorm inside his own head, little sparks going off behind his eyes.

Then the pressure on his temples disappeared. _Damn, that actually hurt,_ Bill complained.  _I think you booted me out of there. Your brain has a killer punch too._

 _Serves you right,_ Dipper grumbled. _Don’t do that._

Laughing again, Bill said, _Well, that’s not all I can do! There’s more in your brain than just your memories and all those little feelings. For example -_

Suddenly the headspace was fear, panic, all-out terror, and Dipper wanted to _run_ run run run get out _get out get away,_ his breathing was coming in short gasps and his heart was thumping wildly against his ribs _get out get out GET OUT -_

Just as abruptly as before, the sensation vanished, and he was vaguely aware of his body slumping forward as the flight response eased its way out of his bloodstream. Something was touching his hands, but he could hardly feel it, his head was pounding so hard he could hear it.

 _Don’t do that,_ he repeated, somehow shaking even inside his own head. _Jesus, holy shit, don’t do that._

 _Fine, fine, I’ll lay off. I was just doing a demonstration. Human brains are fascinating! You have so many things going on all at once! And yours just never wants to shut_ up, _it’s a million thoughts going in circles. ‘round and ‘round and ‘round, trying to focus on everything -_

_Please shut the fuck up._

Amazingly enough, Bill didn’t say any more, and the headspace settled down. A few wispy trails of thought floated like mist in the air, but nothing like the storms of anger and panic.

Dipper did the mental equivalent of stuffing miscellaneous items into a closet to hide them from being seen as opposed to putting them away properly; he kicked the hypothetical door closed on his feelings and ideas and whatever else was present in his brain, whether it was complaining about Bill or worrying about the state of his mind or just wondering what he was going to do for dinner.

Keeping the headspace empty would mean staying safe. If Bill could manipulate his emotions that easily - Dipper shuddered and he heard Bill laugh as if across a great distance.

_Just because I can doesn’t mean I will._

_Right, because trusting you has gone so well in the past,_ Dipper thought dryly, hoping sarcasm still worked in the headspace.

_All right, all right, just because I’m nice, I’ll help you out. There is a way you can “lock” thoughts and make them inaccessible._

This piqued Dipper’s interest. _Really? That’s possible?_

_It requires a lot of introspection and trial and error, but yep, it’s possible._

_I’ll be working on that. Stay out of my head._ The headspace was all suspicion, now, suspicion and distrust, with a bit of amusement from Bill’s end. Gray-blue flecked with a bright yellow.

 _It’s not exactly a gold mine. It is interesting, though, how easy it is to change how you feel,_ Bill drawled, his golden mental laughter rising from the floor of the headspace and swirling around like a tornado of sand.

Dipper bristled. _Don’t even fucking dare._

There was a small blip in the headspace, and Bill’s presence faded.

Dipper opened his eyes to see the demon looking at him and nearly jumped in shock. Humor in the headspace, then, the tornadoes calming to pale smoke.

Dipper pulled away and broke the connection, turning his head to face the coffee table and the opposite wall. He refused to look at Bill and the unbearable conceitedness in his expression, _couldn't_ look at him. “Part of the deal was you leaving me and my family alone, remember?” he said, doing his utmost to keep his voice from shaking; the last traces of panic were finally beating out of his heart.

“I’m not hurting you, trust me, I would _know_ if I was hurting you.” Bill’s thumb lightly stroked Dipper’s index finger and he realized for the first time that they were _holding hands,_ and he quickly yanked his hands away, wiping them on his jeans as if trying to get rid of any touch.

“Whatever,” he muttered, standing up and heading for the kitchen. “I’m gonna get dinner started.”

Bill got up as well, stretching, cracking his back. “I’ll help.”

“You are _not_ helping either of us in the kitchen. At least not until you understand not to put _Tupperware_ in the _microwave.”_

“Who did what now?”

Dipper jumped half a foot in the air and spun around, nearly falling over at the sound of his sister’s voice. “ _Mabel!_ How long’ve you been there??” He stumbled backwards and, horrifyingly enough, literally fell into Bill’s arms.  _Son of a -_

Mabel grinned. “I dunno, ten minutes? I’ve just been folding laundry. Um, I think I lost one of your socks,” she said apologetically. “One of the wool ones?”

“Aw, come on, Mabel, those’re my favorite!” Dipper complained.

“I’m sorry!” she whined. “I’ll go looking later, I swear. If it makes you feel any better, one of my shirts is missing, and I have no idea how that happened.”

“Are you sure it’s not just hidden inside a towel or something? Otherwise it's probably Karen's fault, I swear she had a kleptomaniac thing going on.”

She turned to dig through the unfolded towels. “I’m on it!”

Bill coughed and Dipper felt it and realized the demon was fucking _holding_ him, and he leaped away like he’d been burnt.

“ _Okay, well,_ I can do dinner,” Dipper offered hastily. “Since you did laundry.”

Mabel raised an eyebrow. “You can _try_ to do dinner, I dunno, bro, remember when -”

“That was two years ago,” he interrupted. Bill gave him a curious look. “I’ve improved. A lot.”

She shrugged. “Then go right ahead. Just keep Bill away from the microwave.”

“You can’t tell me what to do-o!” Bill said in a sing-song, practically skipping into the kitchen. He stuck his head back out to say, “C’mon, Pine Tree, I wanna see you butcher pizza.” He had clearly picked up on the memory thanks to the headspace.

Dipper rolled his eyes and fell undramatically onto the ottoman on top of the folded clothes. “I can’t believe it’s only been 24 hours.”

Mabel patted him on the back. “It’s gonna be okay,” she promised. “I’m here for you. We’re doing this together.” Dipper gave her a grateful look.

“...and you guys looked so _cute_ holding hands,” Mabel teased, poking her brother in the side.

“Don’t even start.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **last edited: 3.28.17**


	5. Chapter Five

_Show me, like, Ancient Egypt or something._

A boy, not even old enough to be called a young man, stood brooding on a balcony. His clothes were beaded with gold and blue, and he leaned on a walking cane. He started at a noise from behind him and turned around to see an older man approach him, looking serious, speaking in a foreign, unrecognizable language. The boy nodded and said something in response, his voice still high in pitch, and followed the man into the building, clutching the cane.

_Wow. You were really there?_

_Yeah, just hangin’ around. Y’know, I always felt bad for Tutankhamun. Imagine being king at age nine. That guy was one of his advisors, but still._

_Okay, er, have you ever been around a movie set?_

_Oh yeah, you ever seen The Shining?_

_‘Course I’ve seen The Shining._

The image changed to a few people sitting in a spacious room, laughing, surrounded by cameras. A few older men talked, looking over papers, while other men looked at their cameras and inspected the lights. Another, very familiar man came down the flight of stairs, flipping through a script.

_Whoa, that’s Jack Nicholson!_

_Yep. Weird guy, if you ask me. Got really into that climactic scene. Am I done being your history channel yet?_

_Fine, fine. Wait - one more thing._

Bill heaved a dramatic sigh. _What?_

Dipper paused. _You - you mentioned that you were human before._

A new series of images, more vivid than before, were put on display. Baroque architecture, men and women in fancy dress, crowded streets. One building stood out in particular, a great palace filled with gilded rooms.

_Yep! I was last human in the 1600’s, in France. There was a lot of tension, post-Thirty Years War, Franco-Spanish War, lots of wars going on, but the king threw the royal family a bone, so we were alright. Pretty well off, actually. Hang on -_

A man, then, a man in a mirror. He was already tall, but he wore heeled shoes that gave him an extra inch; he wore a wide-brimmed hat which covered most of his hair, though blonde bangs fell over his dark eyebrows and around his ears. He wore a waistcoat and a shirt with a high collar, and pants that gathered at the knee. His eyes were still a bright, vivid yellow.

Dipper stifled a snort. _That’s you?_

 _Hey, that’s how rich people dressed back then,_ Bill defended himself. _The peasants looked worse._

_I’m not sure how anyone could look worse._

Bill punched Dipper in the shoulder and the connection was broken when Dipper fell backwards onto the arm of the couch.

“Hey, ow!” he complained, immediately reaching for his shoulder. “Geez, you don’t have to punch me that hard.”

Bill yawned. “Well, you’re cheeky. What time is it?”

Dipper checked his phone. “Almost 11, wow, I didn’t realize it was that late already, I have to get up early to prepare for work tomorrow.” He stood up and made for the stairs. “You can do whatever, I still don’t trust you around other people without supervision.”

Bill rolled his eyes. “Party pooper.”

It had been a week and a half and Dipper was no longer on pins and needles every night with worry that Bill would burn the house down or do something equally terrible while he was asleep. Still, sleep took a while to come to him, so he laid in bed and stared at the ceiling and thought about Bill’s memories.

It was a little - well, it was _really_ weird that Bill had lived through every part of human history. He was immortal, but Dipper hadn’t really known the depth of that word before looking at an unfinished Stonehenge or the pyramids in Egypt or the assassination of Archduke Ferdinand or Nixon being sworn in as President. And as much as Bill revealed to him, there was so much underneath, so much that went unsaid. How much supernatural interference was there throughout history? Were there mysteries and secrets that humankind would never know or understand?

Dipper rolled onto his side and looked at the iPhone docking station on his end table, the little green numbers reading 11:17. He had been awake since 9 and he wasn’t really tired, as there hadn’t been a lot of business that day and the tourists that did come were quiet, well-behaved people, surprisingly enough. They were only about a week and a half into June, so the real summer rush hadn't started yet. 

He rolled over again and stared at the wall, at the old wood paneling with the little knots in the boards shaped like eyes that had given him so much paranoia when he was younger. His heart was still going steadily, not slowing down, and his eyes were wide open.

Dipper groaned in frustration and said aloud, “I’m not going to sleep, am I.” The chirping of crickets outside his open window was the only response.

Then he winced and his hand flew to his temple, pressing down; whatever Bill was thinking about had caused the headspace to flare up, but the images weren’t clear enough for him to pick out. The colors were vibrant but blurry, and there was a lot of garbled noise, and the emotions that Bill had associated with these memories were equally indistinguishable. It was like trying to watch TV on one of those shitty televisions with the antennae, and the program was nothing but loud, neon static.

He hoped Bill was hearing his own irritation.

Whatever was happening, it wasn’t letting up, only getting more obnoxious. Dipper instinctively clapped his hands over his ears, but this, of course, did nothing to muffle the noise coming from inside his own head. It was charged, filled with energy, and it seemed to thump along with his heartbeat.

“Oh my God, _fuck_ this,” he grouched, and kicked off his covers. He crawled out of bed and paused only to throw on a shirt before storming downstairs to the guest room, only running into the wall once on his way down.

He marched down the dark hall to the guest room and was polite enough to knock on the door loudly instead of charging right in. It took a few seconds for Bill to open the door, snarling, " _What?"_

Dipper momentarily forgot why he had stomped down there in the first place. Bill’s hair was ruffled and out of place, bangs across his face and strands sticking up everywhere. His pupils were oddly dilated, he was breathing heavily, and his expression was something close to fury. Dipper had never seen him like this, and he knew he wasn’t imagining the nearly _salacious_ way that Bill was glaring at him.

“I - I was just g - y - could you, like, tone it down?” Dipper asked feebly, gesturing at his own head. “Like, brain-wise?”

Bill visibly calmed down after a few seconds. “Right. Yeah, yeah, sorry. Didn’t mean to.”

Dipper knew he should leave, but he dawdled anyway, his feet not wanting to move. “Are you - are you okay? You don’t look…” he trailed into silence.

Bill chewed on his lip for a second before saying, “Humans are weird. I’ll shut up, you go to sleep.”

Dipper nodded cautiously and backed away as Bill shut the door. Now _his_ mind was whirling as he headed back upstairs, but he did his best to keep it in his metaphorical corner for Bill’s sake. He'd prefer to avoid poking that hornet's nest.

He fell into bed and debated with himself on what was going on with Bill. It was weird, but it wasn’t like super weird. _Maybe that’s normal for demons. That are in human bodies, that is. Maybe it was more of his memories that set off a reaction of some kind? Maybe he had a dream? Who knows..._

It took a lot of tossing and turning, but Dipper eventually managed to fall asleep, pushing his curiosity off to one side and finally welcoming the darkness of unconsciousness.

He woke the next morning covered in sweat with a bad taste in his mouth. He made a sleepy noise of disgust when he realized this and hastily threw the covers off, stumbling out of bed. He grabbed some (hopefully) clean clothes off of the floor and hurried into the shower. The headspace was an odd blur of colors, like looking at a painting from a great distance, and Dipper understood this just as much as he understood the night before - that is, not at all.

After a fast shower, he headed downstairs. Bill was sitting and drinking black coffee at the table, hair flat and in place, like he hadn’t been a fucking mess the night before.

He nodded a hello to Dipper as he headed for the kitchen, and Dipper jerked his head in something that could be considered a response, and nearly ran into his sister.

“Whoa! Slow your roll, bro. There’s coffee left over -”

“I want all of it.”

She grinned and poured it into a mug. “How late did’ya go to bed?”

“Only like 11, but I couldn’t sleep.” He lowered his voice. “Something weird happened last night.”

Mabel set the coffee pot down and turned to him, interested. “What?

“So I was trying to sleep, but there was like, this - burst of colors n’ stuff in the headspace.” Dipper mimed his own head exploding. “And it was really loud and annoying, so I went downstairs to yell at Bill, but when he opened the door he looked...I don’t even know how to describe it. He just looked really messed up.”

Mabel shrugged. “Probably just weird demon stuff, I wouldn’t pry. I’d be more interested in learning about the last time he was a person.”

“He showed me a bit yesterday,” Dipper replied, turning to the fridge to get the milk out. “1600’s, France. He was part of the royal family somehow. Probably killed somebody,” he added as an afterthought, looking disturbed.

“Aw, at least try to give him the benefit of the doubt,” said Mabel. “Maybe he impersonated somebody, or, I dunno, married somebody.”

 _“Married?”_ Dipper snorted.

“What? It’s possible, marrying into royalty, that’s what a lot of people did back then.”

“I guess. Still, that seems too...not violent.”

“What’re we talking about?” Bill asked, walking into the kitchen with dishes.

Mabel jumped right into it. “Th’ last time you were human, how were you in the royal family?”

Bill glanced at Dipper before he spoke. “It was part of the deal. The man who summoned me made it possible.”

“Who summoned you?” Mabel asked.

Bill grinned and leaned against the dishwasher, pushing hair out of his face. “You may have heard of King Louis the Fourteenth.”

There was a pause.

“I - I don’t actually know who that is,” Dipper admitted, and Mabel frowned as she tried to remember anything she might know about him.

Then she perked up. “Oh! Oh, yeah, I know who you’re talking about. He was one of those guys who believed in the divine right of kings, involved in three different major wars, created a system of absolute monarchial rule that remained in place until the French Revolution.”

Dipper gave her a look of surprise. “When -?”

“Western European history class, junior year,” she replied cheerfully. “Guess I remembered some of that! Not enough to get an A in the class though…” She coughed. “Anyway. So I guess you’re the odd one out, Dip.”

“Man,” he grumbled; one of his biggest pet peeves was not knowing things when other people did, especially his sister.

“I’ll fix that.” Bill took a step forward and held Dipper’s face in his hands. His eyes flickered from Dipper's eyes to his mouth before leaning in, their foreheads bumping together.

Dipper was immediately broadcasted all the information about Louis XIV he would ever need, the way he acted to the way he dressed to his politics and his laws and his beliefs, him in wartime and him interacting with his family and later, him with a wife and a child, him addressing the public. The king seemed to look right at Dipper, small, wrinkled blue eyes boring holes through Dipper’s skull, his long nose shadowing his scowl. His voice was in the headspace, then, very fast French over the rapid cycling of images of him and images of his effect on France.

Dipper’s eyes snapped open when Bill pulled his forehead away, and he was actually grateful for the pressure of Bill’s hands on the sides of his head, as his mind was buzzing with the information that had just been forced into it. He didn’t realize how long they’d been standing there staring at each other, Bill’s thumb grazing his cheekbone, until Mabel cleared her throat loudly and said, “So?”

Dipper jumped away so violently that he nearly fell onto the island. _“So,_ I - I know who he is now,” he said lamely.

“Anyway,” Bill continued as if nothing weird and tense and oddly _sexually charged_ had happened at all, “he summoned me because of the Fronde, he was afraid that, despite the efforts made by his family, he would be ousted completely. So, he gave me a duc to possess, just a simple young man, and there I was, bam, I had a noble title and a lot of money.” He headed for the lounge. “I’m gonna go shopping.”

“No you’re not!” Dipper called. “I don’t want you in public by yourself!”

“I do what I want!” Bill called back before tromping up the stairs.

Dipper shook his head in exasperation and knocked back half the coffee.

“He’ll be fine,” Mabel reassured him. “I mean, he went to the drugstore with you two days ago and that went okay, right?”

“I guess. He scared a little kid, but that was only on accident. His eyes are really freaky, aren’t they?” Dipper remarked, shuddering slightly.

Mabel pursed her lips, holding back a smile. “You don’t seem to mind when you’re _staring into them -”_

“I don’t know _what_ you’re implying, but you can stop right now,” Dipper grumbled as she giggled.

“Whatever. We’ve got three hours ‘till work, you wanna tackle the finances while I restock?”

“Sure.”

The twins went their separate ways for their separate jobs.

 

The day was relatively uneventful, not counting a five year old trying to eat one of the displays. Dipper, exhausted of social interaction and recovering from a serious headache from earlier, decided to spend the night watching TV in his room alone as Mabel excitedly gossipped with some of her college friends over video chat in her room.

“This isn’t depressing,” he said firmly to himself as he sat on the old, cushy loveseat they had found at a garage sale and turned on the TV. “This is normal. This is fun. It’s definitely not sad.”

“You just keep saying that.”

 _“AAAaugh holy fuck_ , where’d you come from?” Dipper demanded, jumping up and around so fast he cracked his neck. “Sonovabitch,” he swore under his breath. He never swore more than he did in Bill's presence.

Bill was just lolling in the doorway, his hands on the walls. “I’m bored. What’re you doing?”

“I was just gonna watch Scandal or Sense8 or something,” Dipper replied cautiously. _“Alone.”_

But to his utmost dismay, Bill sauntered in and sat on the loveseat next to him, slinging an arm over the back of the seat. He clicked his fingers together and the door swung shut.

Dipper rolled his eyes and flipped through the Netflix app he had on his Wii U, an old birthday gift from when he turned 16, outdated but still good. He found the episode of Scandal he had left off on and clicked play.

Bill leaned forward on the loveseat, looking intensely at the opening scene. “So what’s this show?”

“Scandal.”

“What’s it about?”

“Scandals.”

Bill gave Dipper a look.

Dipper heaved a sigh. “Okay, the main character, Olivia, she used to work for the government but now she works for rich people who need to cover up stuff they’ve done, so she gets involved with a lot of bad stuff.”

“Like?”

“Like...y’know, drug busts, sex scandals, illicit affairs, arrests, just stuff that they don’t want anybody to know about.”

Bill nodded. “Been there, _yeesh."_ He let out a loud sigh. _"B_ _een there.”_

Dipper raised an eyebrow at him. “What d’you mean, _been there?”_ he asked suspiciously.

“Well, when you’re a high-ranking official in French court, trust me, there’s a lot going on when it comes to scandals.” He grinned slightly. “For instance, we all got a little too drunk one night and I woke up next to a _marquise._ Saucy little thing, she was."

Dipper pointedly looked away. “Okay, I did _not_ need that mental image, _why_ am I having this conversation with you??” he asked of thin air, glaring at the ceiling. “I would rather do literally anything than talk about this. Just shut up and watch TV if you’re gonna bother me.”

Bill suppressed a laugh and reclined on the loveseat, saying nothing else. The size of the loveseat meant that he and Dipper were sitting annoyingly close to each other and Dipper tried to inconspicuously scoot as far away as possible. Thankfully, once the action in the episode picked up, he was able to immerse himself in the plot and forget about the demon sitting next to him.

The headspace was humming quietly, a washing machine-esque sound over images of what was displayed on the TV, garbled and distant thoughts barely interrupting the dialogue. Dipper couldn’t pick out anything that Bill was thinking about, even if he focused hard - he could see images, but thoughts were still too indistinct. Occasionally between the replayed shots of what they were watching, there would be an abrupt blank spot. Dipper voiced aloud his curiosity about this.

Bill just glanced at him and grinned, tapping his own head. “I don’t want to show you _everything._ A guy needs his privacy.”

“So it’s that locking-thoughts thing you were telling me about?”

“Yep.”

“Huh.”

They lapsed into silence again for the rest of the episode. Dipper clicked to watch the next one and Bill didn’t move, just adjusted his position and pushed some hair out of his face.

“Will you show me how to do it?” he asked suddenly.

Bill shook his head in a display of faux regret. “This isn’t something I can demonstrate, it’s something that you have to learn.”

“Oh. Well -”

“This show is good, but I don’t understand what’s going on at all,” Bill complained, frowning at the TV.

Dipper sighed in frustration for possibly the hundredth time that day. “Then maybe you should go and watch the previous three seasons and _then_ interrupt me.”

“Or you could just recap all of it for me,” Bill suggested. _“Quid pro quo,_ I told you about King Louis.”

“Ugh. Alright, fine. But first, you have to tell me why you were acting so weird last night,” said Dipper, folding his arms. “What the hell was that all about?”

Bill sighed and ran a hand through his hair, looking irritated. “I did something a little...unorthodox. I tried to re-experience my memories, and yes, I know you don’t understand what that means. Basically, I can look back at any point in history no problem, no repercussions, but looking back on a time period when I was human as a human _now_ just gave me a whole bunch of emotions I couldn’t handle in my... _fresh_ state of being.”

Thinking about it too hard gave Dipper a headache; he shook his head and rubbed at his temples and said, “Okay, that’s weird, but I guess it makes some sense. You experience things differently as a person than as a...whatever you can call your normal form, I guess. A demonic triangle thing.”

“Yep! Exactly. Now, catch me up, come on.” Bill gestured for Dipper to approach him.

Dipper hesitantly leaned forward and Bill met him, their foreheads touching. He felt his hands on his face and tried not to shudder at Bill's touch, at the strange  _intimacy_ of it.

Dipper closed his eyes firmly and forced his thoughts to center on all of his memories of Scandal. He started with what he could remember from season one. _Are you getting this?_ he asked Bill. He felt his presence in the headspace, hovering alongside himself.

 _Yeah, I’m watching,_ Bill replied, and he was focusing intently on the recap. _This is interesting. I like it._

 _Yeah, it’s a good show. My friend Jasper recommended it to me back in college._ He was halfway done with season one, the thoughts cycling rapidly.

_Slow it down, I’m hardly getting anything._

_Sorry._ Dipper tried to slow down the pace of his memories, but his thoughts were naturally fast, always going at a million miles an hour. It made it difficult for him to concentrate on things, unless said things were extremely fascinating to him. He was also desperately trying to keep everything but the TV show recap concealed.

Then there was a nudge, something pushing at the steady stream of recollections.

 _What’re you doing?_ Dipper asked.

_Sorry, that was an accident. Keep going._

Dipper continued as the headspace hummed with suspicion.

He had just finished recapping season 2 when it happened again, something trying to take his place, take control of the headspace.

_Knock it off!_

_Sorry! I swear, it’s accidental._

_Well, try to contain it better, geez. You’re supposed to be better at this._

_I_ am _better at this. Doesn’t mean I’m not still learning._

It happened for a third time halfway through recapping season three.

_Okay, seriously -_

Suddenly Dipper’s thoughts were knocked down completely, like a sandcastle taken out by a wave, and without warning his mind was being _invaded,_ there was something probing in the center of his head and it _hurt_ but he didn’t know what to do, he couldn’t even control his own thoughts, did they even _belong_ to him -

With tremendous effort, he wrenched his head away from Bill and spat, “Get the fuck away from me, you fucking asshole! What the _fuck!_ You can’t just -”

Dipper’s angry words died in his mouth at Bill’s expression, the look in his yellow eyes, predatory and intense.

“You - what th’ hell are y -”

Suddenly there were hands on his face, fingers under his jaw, and almost too quietly to hear, Bill murmured, “You _really_ need to learn to lock up your thoughts,” and then Dipper couldn’t breathe couldn’t think couldn’t do _anything_ because Bill was _kissing_ him.

He was frozen in place, his hands digging into the arm of the loveseat. His mind, still reeling from the onslaught, was practically useless, only echoing the rapidfire pounding of his heartbeat. He was abruptly aware of a hand underneath his chin, a thumb pressed against his throat.

He’d kissed people before - _wow, that’s a hell of a disclaimer_ \- but never like this, exactly, never so violently and _without his permission,_ he thought rather loudly, hoping that maybe their foreheads would brush together and Bill would pick up on that. _But would it matter? He takes what he wants from me._ He felt a low swooping sensation in his stomach at the thought and found himself leaning in.

Their foreheads bumped together and Dipper was knocked off his metaphorical feet with the intensity of the emotions within the headspace. It was roaring, a firestorm of scarlet red obsession flecked with yellow amusement that destroyed everything else it encountered. His complaints and comments were barely audible, but Bill definitely heard them, as he started fucking _laughing_ in the headspace _. Asshole._

Then there was the same invasive, prodding feeling in the sides of Dipper’s head, and he could sense Bill in some of the thoughts and emotions he tried so desperately to seal off, to keep private. Dipper focused intensely on the area and tried to construct some hasty walls, but he wasn’t as well-versed in the construction of the human mind as Bill was, and they crumbled easily. This didn’t stop him from making as much of an attempt as he could.

_Wow, you’re really persistent. Guess I’m done here._

Bill pulled away, wiping his mouth and looking mildly put off, and Dipper could only stare at him in incredulous fury.

“Get the fuck _off_ of me! Get - get out of my room, you gigantic fucking piece of shit -”

Bill held up his hands. “Alright, alright! But your thoughts really weren’t complaining that much.” He grinned, smug. “Just sayin’. You should learn to be more _true_ to yourself.”

“I will shove this remote up -”

Bill disappeared, leaving only a slight dent in the cushions, and Dipper was left to swear at empty air.

After he had managed to unclench his hands and calm down his mind, he was able to actually think, which was much worse than not thinking. He found himself absentmindedly touching his mouth and the places on his neck where Bill had touched him and he swatted his own hand away, mentally lecturing himself.

 _It doesn’t matter if he’s...somewhat attractive, this is so fucked up, that’s - that’s_ so _fucked up. It’s - it’s just a game,_ he told himself firmly. _It’s some power play game because he’s a megalomaniac. I’ll learn how to lock my thoughts up and that - that’ll never happen again._

The silence of the room seemed to mock him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **last edited: 3.28.17**


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more worldbuilding.

Dipper had never hated his mind more.

He had had reasons to hate it his whole life, from his concentration issues to his priorities when it comes to memory to worrying about _every single thing that could be worried about._ His troubles with social interaction, with asking for help, with dealing with the fact that he did actually struggle with some things and wasn’t always “the smart one.” His jealousy problems, his inferiority complex, all of that.

Bottom line, his brain had been a giant dick his whole life. But now, amazingly, it was worse, because it wouldn’t shut up about that fucking _kiss._

So, he threw himself into figuring out how to lock up his mind. Not just _lock_ \- he wanted to deadbolt it. He wanted every thought surrounding that kiss and Bill in general (aside from “fuck that guy”) to be sealed in a box and thrown into a metaphorical river.

Time he didn’t spend doing dumb shit with Mabel and Bill or working or shopping or watching TV he would spend with his eyes shut tight and his head in his hands, trying desperately to close his head off from the shared headspace. To his dismay, the connection between him and Bill appeared to have had gotten stronger; he could sometimes pick out individual thoughts if Bill happened to be sitting right next to him, and images of memories or abstract ideas would sometimes solidify out of a blurry mess. When they were close, he would shut everything down and focus on whatever was in front of him or any random thought that flickered through his head, like _what if trees had feet_ or any other inane idea.

When he was able to successfully clear his mind of any incriminating thought and confuse Bill in the process, Dipper decided he was safe, at least for the time being. Another week and a half passed with minor incident, but Bill was suspiciously quiet, even as he fell into the routine of human life and learned to use every appliance in the house without injuring himself or setting something on fire.

He was just congratulating himself on wiping his mind as he sat on the couch with Bill leaning against it when Mabel fell onto the cushion next to him and nearly sent his bowl of popcorn flying.

“Hey, watch it!” he complained, snatching it before it could spill.

She laughed. “Sorry. Gimme some of that.”

“Fine, but you have to get me a beer,” Dipper shot back.

“I just sat down!” Mabel whined, but she got up anyway, goose-stepping to the kitchen. “Hey, Bill, want anything?” she called.

“Beer, thanks.”

Dipper lightly kicked Bill on the shoulder, then rested his foot there when Bill didn't bother to swat it away. “Is this the first alcohol you’ve had since you were human?”

“Aside from a _drop_ of wine, it is. I had a pretty good tolerance built up in France, I wonder if I still have that…”

“Even if you’re a total lightweight you won’t get drunk off of one beer,” Dipper pointed out. “And no way in hell am I letting _you_ get drunk.”

Bill craned his head slightly to look up at Dipper, pouting. “Aw, why not?”

“Because you can barely act like a normal person when you’re sober,” Dipper said matter-of-factly. “I don’t want you knocking back one too many and ending up, I dunno, reanimating the dead.”

“That’s tough coming from a guy who _did_ reanimate the dead,” Bill countered, one corner of his mouth quirking up.

“That was _on - twice,_ but okay, fair enough,” Dipper conceded. "Even though they were both accidents."

“Besides, that’s too easy.” Bill put his hands behind his head. “Necromancy is _child’s play_ compared to all the stuff I could do.”

“Yeah?” said Dipper with a hint of a challenge, even though he was slightly disgusted at the thought of what Bill was capable of.

Knowing this, Bill casually sent a series of increasingly disturbing and sickening images to the headspace. Animals and people missing teeth and eyes, a deer that looked like it’d been _stretched,_ a Frankenstein-esque creature with sewn on patches of what looked like _human skin,_ and -

“I think you threw the wrong memory in, that’s the Michael Jackson Thriller video,” said Dipper, laughing despite his revulsion.

Bill frowned. “You’re right. I have no idea how that got mixed in. My attention span is about .4 seconds."

Dipper grinned. "Finally, something we have in common. Well, in regards to paying attention to uninteresting stuff."

Bill waved his hand and accidentally sent the TV remote flying across the room. It hit the opposite wall and bounced off. "We have more in common than you think, little tree. My attention span is directly related to my species, though." He made another hand gesture and the remote came zooming back to the coffee table. “Just chaos demon stuff.”

“Sorry, what?”

Bill glanced up at Dipper again. “Oh, I haven’t told you about that?”

“What’re we talking about?” Mabel asked, sliding back onto the couch. She handed the beers to the boys.

“I get power from chaos,” Bill replied casually, twisting off the bottle cap. “We call it ‘chaos energy.’ Basically, the more disorderly an area is, the stronger I become. The more you know!” He raised his bottle and drank.

Dipper frowned. “So if things are going totally batshit crazy -”

“Then I’m havin’ a ball!”

“Great. Fantastic. Let’s just watch TV.” Dipper raised his hand and, to his complete and utter shock, the remote flew into it.

The twins stared at Dipper’s hand for a good few seconds before Dipper dropped the remote like it had burned him and they erupted into noise.

“Holy crap! Holy cr - it just went into your hand!” Mabel exclaimed, her eyes wide, flapping her hands. “It just - you just made it move!” She pointed at his hand as her own shook.

“I just made it _move!_ I don’t even know how! I was just - and it was just -” Dipper was left speechless, gaping soundlessly at the remote in his lap.

Bill turned around completely to observe. “So you used telekinesis?” he directed to Dipper. “By _accident?_ I always knew you were talented, but damn, kid.”

“How is this even possible??” Dipper demanded, freaking out a little. “I’ve never done anything like that before!”

Bill mused on this, staring up at the ceiling. “It’s possible that, through the soul bond, more has been passed between us than just memories and thoughts and all that.” He pointed at Dipper. “I might be passing on magical ability to you.”

“Holy shit,” Dipper mumbled, looking at his hands.

“You have a weird amount of untapped magical ability already, but the soul bond is helping you reach it, I guess.” Bill cracked his knuckles and the sound was unnaturally loud. “Time to teach you magic, Pine Tree!”

Dipper’s smile was only partially forced; while the idea of spending one-on-one time with Bill was about as appealing as hanging out with a great white shark, he had spent a large part of his life trying to understand the practice of magic, and was desperate to understand just what he supposedly had an affinity for.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice dry. “Let’s do it.”

“Great!” Bill leaned back against the couch and drank about a third of his beer at once. “We start tomorrow. It’s Sunday, right? You’re closed?”

“Yeah, we’re closed tomorrow. Wake me up before 10 and I rip your arms off.”

Bill just laughed. “You’re a _riot_ today,” he drawled, and took another swig.

Dipper followed in his footsteps and chugged half the bottle then and there. He drank even more when he realized he was staring at the back of Bill’s head, staring at Bill’s hand as he scratched at the hair at the nape of his neck -

“Hey, Bill, what’s on your neck?” Mabel asked.

Bill’s hand stopped. “What? Something’s on my neck?”

“Yeah, it - hold up your hair more.”

He took a handful of his hair and raised it up, leaving his neck visible. To the twins’ surprise, standing out on Bill’s neck was a series of odd, cryptic black markings.

Mabel quickly pulled out her phone and took a picture, squinting against the flash. “Okay, you can put it down.”

He did so and turned around, looking genuinely confused. “What was it?”

“Here.” Mabel showed him the photo on her phone screen.

He frowned. “That’s new. You don’t recognize the marks?”

The twins shook their heads. “Kinda figured _you_ would,” Dipper commented.

Bill's eyes narrowed in annoyance but he shrugged nonchalantly. "I guess I don't. But that’s _really_ weird, I should have seen this before, I know every single human language.”

“Well, maybe it’s not human,” Dipper suggested; he’d known certain paranormal beasts that had their own speaking languages, so it wasn’t too far-fetched to assume that they might have written ones as well.

“‘Course, ‘course…” Bill muttered, his eyebrows furrowed into a thoughtful crease as he inspected the photo. “This is...vaguely recognizable. I think I've seen this language before, but I'm not sure when...looks like a combination of Arabic and Sanskrit and Mandarin Chinese, but that's impossible, it's gotta be something more  _obscure._ Hmm."

Dipper realized he was staring again - the intensity in Bill's face and his slight frown was weirdly attractive - and he hurriedly said, “D-d’you think it’s important?”

“Well, there’s gotta be a reason it’s there in the first place, right?” said Mabel, shrugging. “There’s a reason for everything.”

“‘Star’s right. We should find out what this means.” Bill hummed for a second and then clicked his fingers; a large book appeared on the coffee table, the same one used for the human transmutation ritual. He picked it up and rifled through it until he found the right pages.

“...well, that’s just strange.” He looked up at them, his expression deadly serious. “It’s not in here. There’s nothing about tattoos or symbols appearing on the human.”

The twins exchanged baffled looks.

Dipper reached for the book. “Lemme see that.” Bill handed it to him, their fingers touching, and Dipper quickly yanked it away. He ran his finger down the written incantation. “How old is this book?”

“Eh, centuries, couldn’t give you an exact date. I didn’t even know about it until the 1900s.” Bill tapped it with two fingers. “This is the only copy the authors ever compiled.”

“Centuries…” Dipper muttered. He looked through the book, stopping at a few pages. To his discomfort, quite a few were stained with blood. “And you learned about it in the 1900s.”

“Yeah.”

“So only 100 years...so I’m guessing you haven’t really inspected it much?” Dipper continued to flip to random pages.

“Well, no, I had other things to do,” said Bill defensively.

“Dip, what’re you getting at?” Mabel asked suspiciously, leaning over the book.

He took everything off his lap and set it all on the coffee table, then headed for the kitchen. He rummaged through some drawers for a minute and came out with a lighter.

“Okay, so if I just…” He flicked the lighter and held the flame close to one of the blank spots on the human transmutation page. “Maybe there’s hidden ink. Invisible ink.”

Mabel lightly punched her brother on the shoulder. “Good thinking. Just like the blacklight, right?”

He grinned. “Yeah, sort of. I figured since this book is centuries old it couldn’t be anything modern, but steganography’s been around for a long time and there’s tons of different methods. A lot of invisible ink is heat-reactive, but some of them are chemically reactive, which would be a lot more difficult - hey, look, something’s showing up!”

The three scrutinized the page closely as words started to appear, not as black as the script around them, but dark enough to be visible.

“Crap, it’s Latin,” said Dipper, frowning. “Bill - ?”

Bill read it over and said aloud, _“Alienum marcas apparebit super persona. Adhuc enim habeo discere quidnam velint haec esse.”_ He sighed loudly. “Well, we can chalk that up under ‘shit that’s completely useless.’”

“What? What’s that mean?” asked Mabel. “Why’s it useless?” She squinted at the writing.

“‘Strange marks will appear on the person. I have yet to learn what these things mean,’” Bill recited. “So the guy who came up with this ritual didn’t even know what they meant. Or if he did, he wasn’t able to record it.”

Dipper slumped back onto the couch, defeated. “Damn, back to square one, I guess.”

A few tense seconds passed in which they continued to stare at Mabel’s phone. Then she got a text and it vibrated, making them all jump. She switched over to her messages and they all resumed their previous positions, effectively ending the discussion.

Mostly for his own benefit, Dipper said, “It probably doesn’t matter too much. Let’s just leave it.” He forced down his frustration as much as he could and tried to push aside his feelings of suspicion surrounding the weird tattoo. Maybe it was innocuous, he told himself with false optimism. Maybe it was just some dumb side effect of the human transmutation ritual that the creator never figured out.

He sighed. _And maybe I’m a well-adjusted guy with normal interests who wasn’t kissed by a fucking_ demon _two weeks_ _ago._

He swore he saw Bill smile slightly and prayed to every god listening that this thought had gone under the radar.

Eventually, despite all of his internal turmoil surrounding Bill and the tattoo and that stupid kiss, he managed to put the problem out of his mind after half an hour of watching 15 unfortunate contestants attempting to answer random trivia questions blindfolded while cacti rotated around them and a very old woman attempted to sing in octaves both too low and too high.

 

“Again.”

Dipper coughed loudly and staggered onto his hands and knees, dusting dirt off of his shirt. _“God,_ will you let up for like four seconds!” he griped. “I just tasted _blood,_ I think I’m _dying.”_

“Oh, you’re fine, get up.” Bill nudged Dipper’s side with his foot and nearly kicked him over. “Nothing’s broken.”

Dipper hurriedly got to his feet, glaring at Bill. “What’s this even supposed to teach me? That you can throw me around with little to no effort?”

“Well, that’s part of it. But mostly I’m trying to get you to defend yourself. Listen, kid -” he clapped his hands on Dipper’s shoulders - “magic is weird. It’s very fickle. When you’re first getting used to it, it often only works with it chooses to, which is usually _but not limited to_ times when the person is under great duress.”

“Okay, first, not sure if you actually know this, but I’m 22 years old,” said Dipper, exasperated, and grabbed Bill's wrists to get his hands off his shoulders.

“Yeah, that means nothing to me.”

“...second, so, what, you’re just gonna keep attacking me until my magic starts to work??” he demanded. “You _sure_ you’re not trying to kill me?”

“Hey, this isn’t fun for me either, kid,” Bill retorted. “I feel the pain you experience, remember? Not to the same extent, but -”

“Fine, fine, let’s just - keep doing this,” Dipper grumbled. He got into a defensive stance and Bill walked a good eight feet away.

“You ready?” he called.

“I guess,” Dipper said with a sigh, and prepared to, once again, attempt to defend himself from the assault.

Bill held up his hand as if to catch an object, then made a gesture with his fingers. Above his hand something shimmered in the sunlight, something with no tangible shape. Then, with no change in expression, he flicked his hand in Dipper’s direction.

Dipper barely had time to fling his hands in front of his face before a roaring sound filled his ears and the sphere of compressed magic smacked into his wrists and exploded, knocking him onto his back. He swore loudly when his head banged against the ground. _“Fuck!_ Son of a bitch!”

“Bad luck. Come on, get up, we’re not done yet.”

Dipper closed his eyes, silently counted to ten, then once again clambered to his feet. He shook his head and held up his hands in caution.

Bill was rubbing the back of his neck with a pained expression. “For both of our sakes, I hope your magic wakes itself up soon,” he said, grimacing. He raised his hand and, again, formed a translucent, shimmering ball of compressed magic.

It was as Bill prepared to throw magic at him for the umpteenth time that Dipper remembered something that happened almost ten years ago, also involving pain and being beaten up, and reluctantly decided to adjust his method.

He closed his eyes and dropped his arms, balling his hands into fists and keeping them firmly at his sides. He screwed up his face in anticipation and prepared for the worst, his heart jumping, his fight-or-flight response yelling at him to do _something,_ to run or duck or at least try to block it, his feet itching to sprint -

Very abruptly and without his instruction, his right hand moved automatically and lashed out. He only struck empty air, but he felt as though he had _pushed_ at something. Shocked and off-balance, he stumbled backward and fell over.

"Wow, you did it!” Bill sounded genuinely surprised, even a little _impressed._

Dipper sat up and saw the demon approaching him. “Wait, what’d I do?” he asked blankly. “I think I -”

“You deflected the blow.” Dipper accepted Bill’s offered hand and was pulled to his feet. “By leaving yourself defenseless, your magic acted to protect you. I figured that’s how it would show itself.”

“Wait - you knew that was the solution?? You just spent an hour pummeling me in  _magic dodgeball_ and you knew what to do all along??” Dipper demanded.

Bill laughed, his hands on his hips. “Of course. I know everything.”

Dipper resisted the powerful desire to smack his forehead into the nearest tree. Or, even better, smack Bill's forehead into the nearest tree. Anything to wipe that stupid smirk off his face.

After a few very frustrated seconds, he turned back to Bill. “Okay, so, I unlocked my magic, or whatever. Now what?”

Bill grinned and smacked his fist into his opposite hand. “Now you can start to control it! Probably. Eventually.”

“Ugh. So I deflected the blow? How exactly -”

For the first time since that night, Bill leaned in and brought their foreheads together, opening the headspace to its fullest. Taken off guard, Dipper was quickly overwhelmed by the intensity of Bill’s thoughts and even with all physical senses drowned out, he could feel himself tripping backwards. When Bill’s hand caught him around the waist, his palm and fingers were oddly hot, even through his t-shirt.

Dipper pushed away the bee-like swarm of thoughts that accompanied this feeling as quickly as he could, but he swore he could hear Bill laughing.

 _Shut up,_ he thought.

 _I didn’t say anything,_ Bill replied innocently, but Dipper could hear the grin in his mental voice.

_Whatever. Were you gonna show me - ?_

The events of minutes ago popped up, and Dipper saw himself through Bill’s eyes, his hands at his sides and his face screwed up in grim anticipation. When the ball of magic energy came flying at him, he threw up a hand and swatted when it was about two feet away from him. Some kind of invisible force exploded the sphere into nothingness and he saw himself stumble backwards and fall over.

 _That’s some airbending bullshit,_ he thought, bewildered.

_That’s magic._

_Wow._

In response to a nonverbal request, the scene played itself again, and Dipper watched himself reflect the magic, still amazed at his own ability.

_And this is just the beginning, little tree. The practice and development of magic has been around ever since humans first discovered the existence of the supernatural._

_And you’ll teach it to me?_

_After a certain point, I won’t need to, you’ll be able to figure things out for yourself. But I can teach you the essentials...elemental manipulation, telekinesis, spatial manipulation -_

_What’s that?_

_Physical attributes of space, it covers summoning objects, changing up areas, even manipulating_ gravity, _how fitting is that?_

_Hilarious._

_I know._

_So what exactly would you call the thing you were doing?_

_Oh, that? Well, offensive magic can take many different forms. That’s one of the more_ obvious  _ways to do it. It can be a lot more fun and interesting than just throwing compressed magical energy around, I just figured we’d start out with something simple._

Dipper was quiet for a few moments, his mind taking in all of the new ideas. The headspace flickered with his vague perceptions of what he could learn to do.

_One more thing. Why even teach this to me?_

_Well, you have potential, kid._

_Again, I’m 22,_ Dipper interrupted.

Bill just ignored him. _And I figured...since we’re bonded for life and everything, we should at least be on somewhat equal footing. Well, with some things._   _I'll let you figure out for yourself which is which._

He pulled his forehead away, breaking the connection, and they were left with Bill’s hand around Dipper’s waist and Dipper’s hands, somehow, against Bill’s chest.

And they were staring at each other, and Dipper wasn’t even fully aware of it, they were close enough that the images and thoughts in the headspace were somewhat distinguishable and his mind was lost in it and he didn’t realize that he was _still staring,_ didn’t realize they were barely inches from each other.

But when Bill bared his teeth in a self-righteous, arrogant grin, Dipper blinked and came to his senses, practically leaping away and swearing at the top of his mental lungs, filling the sort-of-there headspace with some of the worst profanity it had ever seen.

Bill snickered and shook his head, amused. “Humans are ridiculous. I swear, even when these 67 years and 235 days are up -

_“What??”_

“ - I’m still not gonna be used to any of the weird things you do.”

“D-did you just give me my fucking _life span?”_ Dipper stammered, shell-shocked.

“I gave you a time frame,” said Bill dismissively, though the look in his eyes didn’t match his tone of voice. They were narrowed slightly, predatory. It was familiar, too familiar, and Dipper realized with horror that it was the expression that had drifted in and out of his more unsavory dreams -

 He shook his head rapidly and managed to say, "You're weird." Bill just laughed.

Dipper pushed some hair out of his face and rolled up the sleeve of his t-shirt that had fallen down. "Okay, are we gonna keep doing this?" he asked, his voice rougher than normal.

"If you don't think you're done being pummeled into the ground, sure," Bill replied, shrugging, and backed up. "You know, little tree, working on your  _physical_ strength wouldn't be a bad idea either. Magic is affected by the state of the body just as much as the mind or the soul. You don't do much for your  _corpus_ aside from eating chips all the time and drinking a lot of _microbrews_  -"

"Okay, don't be a dick, I just don't like exercising," Dipper grumbled. "I lift weights sometimes and I like hiking, that's it. I don't think anybody actually  _likes_ going running at ungodly hours of the morning or doing whatever other people do."

"Well, if you ever feel like working on your physique, that could be a good  _bonding_ activity for the two of us!" Bill suggested cheerfully. "We can go hiking together, we can go on  _walks,_ help each other stretch -"

"Yeah,  _no,_ we're not doing any of that," Dipper interjected, shuddering, though he had to admit the idea of Bill touching his legs or his arms or his stomach wouldn't be so horrible -

 _Knock it off!_ he chastised his brain. "Okay, hit me," he said, clapping his hands together and bracing himself. "I wanna see if I can do it a second time."

Five seconds and a whole lot of pain later, Dipper wasn't so sure that he could. He had managed to land face-down this time, his face pressed against the dirt and his arms on either side of him.

"Bad luck!" came Bill's obnoxiously bright voice. "Again!"

" _God,_ I fucking hate him," Dipper growled into the earth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **last edited: 3.28.17**  
>  this chapter has been the bane of my editing brain's existence.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> annnddddd the sexual content begins. warnings for **dubious consent,** potentially noncon, depending on how you define it. also dom/sub interactions, mild mind manipulation and coercion in this chapter, as well as non-sexual asphyxiation.

“Something bugging you?”

Dipper glanced over at his sister from his position on the couch; he was laying down with his head on one armrest and his legs dangling off the other. He had spent most of the morning pulling weeds in the backyard and felt as though he deserved a rest.

“Why d’you ask?”

“Because you just sighed super dramatically and you only do that when you’re being vague about stuff that’s bugging you,” said Mabel matter-of-factly. “So what’s going on?”

Dipper sighed again - not as dramatically - and said, “That tattoo thing. It’s just so _weird_ that the guy who came up with the dumb ritual didn’t know what it meant. And why would he have hidden that? He even wrote in blood serum, which is disturbing, to say the least -”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Mabel held up her hands. “He wrote in what now?”

“Blood serum, it’s an extraction from - okay, what matters is that it’s a bit of a process to even create blood serum. I dunno how they made it in those times, but I’m sure it was a lot of effort. So he went to all this effort to try and hide the fact that he didn’t know what the tattoo meant? Why??” He flung up his hands in exasperation and the overhead light fizzled and went out. “Aw, crap, not again.” He repeated the motion but the light didn’t come back on.

“Not quite mastered the magic thing, huh?” Mabel asked, grinning.

 _“Ugh,_ no. It’s so complicated, and it keeps happening by accident! I was shaving yesterday and I nicked myself, right, so I was swearing a bit and then literally all of the hair on my right leg fell off.”

Mabel burst into giggles. “Oh my gosh, _that_ is amazing. Can I see?”

Dipper grumbled but struggled up from his position and rolled up his right pant leg to his knee.

Mabel continued to giggle, occasionally snorting. “I’ve decided I love magic.”

 _“I_ don’t, watch me accidentally magic my eyebrows off next time.”

“I would love magic even more if you did.” She set down the magazine she was reading. “If the tattoo thing is bothering you, why don’t you research it? I mean, aren’t there recordings of other successful human transmutation rituals?”

“Well, yeah, but a lot of them were desecrated back when people were attacking practicers of magic, and a lot of them were just lost. The last recording of one was from the mid 1700's, but that one was so faded it was impossible to read, and there were no mentions of tattoos of any kind. It was kinda just ‘we made a person!’ and that was it.” Dipper shook his head. "It's near impossible to find anything that's actually  _useful."_

“Geez, Dip, then I dunno. You really think it’s important?”

“It’s gotta have some kind of meaning, otherwise it wouldn’t be there in the first place!" Dipper insisted. "And Bill’s no help, he’s so fucking cagey, I’m not sure he even cares what it’s about. _Hah,_ maybe he’s embarrassed because he doesn’t know something for once.” Dipper rolled down his pant leg and put his hands behind his head. “I should probably be less of a dick to him, considering all that gold paid off our student loans, but come _on,_ after all the times he’s fucked with our family? I think we’re allowed to be mean sometimes.”

“An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind,” said Mabel sagely.

“Well, he’s only got one eye, so...that’s...”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Is there any more to that sentence?”

“Shut up.”

“Besides, he has two eyes _now -”_

“I said shut up.”

Mabel grinned broadly and threw her hands in the air. “I win!”

Dipper yawned and stretched; the lamp on the table behind him flew five feet in the air and crashed. “Aw, _hell -”_

“What was that?” Bill stepped into the living room, looking interested. “Are we breaking things? Because I volunteer the couch, that thing is hideous.” His hand abruptly burst into flame.

“What?? _No,_ I - I dunno what I did, but I did this.” Dipper gestured at the broken lamp.

Mabel shook her head. “Geez, bro, you’re worse than Bill was when he was still figuring out _depth perception_ and he kept running into the furniture.”

“And that was only _mostly_ on accident,” Bill added, reluctantly putting out the fire on his hand.

“Hey, I’m trying my best! I can’t figure out how to control it! It kinda just does whatever it wants to do right now.” Dipper huffed a sigh in frustration and the window creaked open.

“This is phase two,” said Bill, nodding. “Once the magic is tapped, it acts subconsciously with you. It takes a lot of self control and focus to start to keep it from being explosive. Have you considered _meditation,_ Pine Tree? Very _zen.”_ He had crossed the room to sit in the second chair that was positioned at the end of the coffee table, by Dipper’s feet, and he folded his fingers into a tent under his chin.

Dipper groaned and held up his hands. “Okay, new plan: I sit here and do absolutely nothing until this stops. Mabel, you’ll have to bring me food. Bill, fill in for me at work, try not to get us arrested.”

Mabel rolled her eyes at him. _“Orrrr,_ you could work on controlling it and not complain.”

“Like _you_ can talk, you stayed in bed for a week when One Direction broke up -”

“I think I can help,” Bill interrupted. “Since I’ve transferred enough magical strength to you through the soul bond to speed up the learning process, maybe I can transfer magical control as well.” He propped his chin up on his hand and he grinned slightly. “Of course, you’d have to be willing to open your mind completely for it to have any effect whatsoever -”

“Absolutely not,” said Dipper immediately. “Not after last time -”

“What happened last time?” Mabel asked, glancing from Dipper to Bill, looking suspicious.

“He was a douche,” Dipper replied sullenly, definitely not going into detail.

Bill held up his hands in surrender. “I _may_ have overstepped some boundaries” - _more like jumped over them and ran,_ Dipper thought - “but it won’t happen again.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” Dipper got up from the couch as slowly as possible, trying not to make any sudden movements, and headed for the kitchen. “I’ll make dinner.”

“Okay, _no.”_ Mabel stood up and pushed past him. “You’re a walking safety hazard, remember? I don’t want you anywhere close to the stove. Go meditate or whatever. Get this under control.”

Dipper visibly cringed as Bill wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “We’ll tackle this, don’t worry, ‘Star,” said Bill confidently and brightly. The headspace reflected his tone, but there was a shadow beneath it, something darker.

 _What the hell does he want this time?_ _If he kisses me again, I swear I'll punch him in the face,_ Dipper thought mutinously. His thoughts were more vicious than necessary to hide the fact that he  _still_ thought about that kiss from time to time, like when Bill mowed the lawn shirtless while grumbling about chores or he bumped into him coming out of the shower or late at night when he couldn't sleep -

Dipper did his utmost to shove those thoughts aside,  _not right now, you're definitely not thinking about that right now,_ he chastised himself, his personal headspace burning with embarrassment.

Then suddenly Bill was tugging on his arm and pulling him somewhere and he snapped out of it. “Whoa, what -”

“We need quiet, and your sister always sings when she cooks.”

Dipper wrenched his arm out of Bill’s grip and reluctantly followed him upstairs.

 

Dipper’s first thought was “Journey to the Center of the Earth meets The Matrix.”

Initially it was like falling down a pit into darkness, flailing and grabbing blindly at walls that weren’t there, seeing occasional blips of light that flickered once before disappearing. But eventually shapes formed out of the darkness, almost solid, and their color, too, appeared in time.

It was very vague and _weird,_ trying to fish through parts of his brain. Trying to find his magical ability somewhere in a vast space of motor controls and instincts and basic functions was like looking for a needle in a haystack, if the needle was the exact same color and texture of hay but it could still hurt like a bitch if it poked you. There was just so much to go through.

The outer layer was more advanced things - how to solve calculus problems, how to beat Dark Souls, how to solve a Rubix cube, how to talk to girls -

_How to talk to girls??_

_Shut the fuck up, it’s hard, okay?_ Dipper grumbled, and batted 'how to count cards' away to go deeper.

On top of the other difficulties, his whole brain was on edge. He had to allow Bill complete and full access to his mind to tackle the problem, and his metaphorical shields were all up, everything dark and imposing and threatening - but beneath, cowering, insecure, and terribly nervous. He did  _not_ want Bill accessing his thoughts and memories more than was absolutely necessary, considering what happened last time.

Pushing on, they moved past less complicated things like taking notes or folding clothes or throwing a ball. They had just gotten past holding things and reading when Bill thought, _We’re stopping here._

They came to a halt amidst the baser, primordial functions of humans, breathing and eating and walking. Here the shields were few and far between, and everything was white, blank. The space felt open to Dipper in the way a large meadow would feel open to a lone deer; easier for predators to find you, and nowhere to hide.

If he tried hard, Dipper could almost picture his own body hovering there among the drifting, colorful abstract representations of his own motor controls, fingers blurred against the whiteness, legs dangling loosely with no floor to stand on. It was nearly impossible for him to picture Bill as anything but the shadow-like presence that he currently was, and he didn’t bother to push it.

 _So what’re we looking for?_ he asked, looking around.

_We’ll know it when we see it._

So they floated through the original tabula rasa, the blank slate of the human subconsciousness, splattered now with colored functions and trained actions, resembling something by Jackson Pollock in the disorderly way they stood out against the whiteness.

 _Your mind is a constant work in progress,_ Bill thought, and at least for now, the darkness in his head was gone, replaced by a mild interest, an innocent curiosity. _Every day humans expand upon what they know and what they can do._

_What about your mind?_

_Well, I haven’t had a brain in a long time, so mine is also a work in progress. But if we can talk in metaphors, my ‘mind,’ the knowledge my true self contains, hasn’t been a blank slate for millennia._

_As in -_

_As in there’s not much left for me to learn._

_Oh._

Silence, then, while Dipper struggled to understand the implications there.

_So...the world is ending??_

Bill laughed and it bounced off the bubbles and came back to Dipper. _I’m practically omnipotent, kid. That’s what that means._

Dipper noticed Bill didn’t really answer his question, but he didn’t push it. Then he remembered that Bill probably noticed that he noticed, but now Bill would notice that he noticed that he noticed -

Nope, too much.

_Practically omnipotent. Not completely._

_Yes, as you’re_ so _keen to point out, there’s stuff I don’t know about yet. But I’ll learn. Learning is fun! Especially when learning something gives you an advantage over somebody else. Boy, I could go_ on _about - oh, there it is._

He was right that they would know it when they saw it; where the other basic, primal controls were matte patches, like acrylic paint, this was pulsing, white-blue and glowing like a star. It was almost like fire in the way it sparked, akin to the blue fire Bill could summon from the palm of his hand.

Once Dipper was done staring at it in amazement, he asked, _Now what do we do with it?_

He felt Bill’s presence shift, and the great ball of magic lurched and pitched forward. _We pull it out. Take it to where some more complicated things are._

_Why??_

Bill sighed. _Think of it this way. You breathe automatically, right? You don’t need to be thinking about it to do it._

_Right._

_And breathing is one of the things floating around in this area, the white space._

_Right._

_Whereas something like writing would be further out, and writing is something that you control, you need to tell yourself to do it -_

_Oh! Okay, I got it. Yeah, let’s do it. Okay._

Dipper wasn’t sure how it was possible for two metaphysical mental travelers to get their hands on the fireball and push it up, but somehow it was doable. It still wasn’t easy - it reminded him of the time he and Mabel were trying to build the biggest snowman in the park to beat some douchey kids at their own game and he nearly fell on his sister trying to push one of the larger snowballs in place. It took the same amount of mental effort to move the magic as it did to take his microeconomics final in junior year. _Hopefully this won’t have the same outcome, though,_ he thought.

It took a lot of heaving and pushing and rolling but they were able to leave the tabula rasa behind them, going back to where the colors started to layer and the mental space was a more comforting darkness. There was how to write, a pleasant green color bobbing in place.

 _So, what, we just leave it here?_ Dipper asked, staring at the visual representation of his magic.

_Yep. It’s under your control now, it won’t just act on its own whenever it feels like it. It’ll require you specifically wanting to use it. So, no more breaking things on accident._

_Well that’s definitely...good, I can’t believe you just knew how to do this, that’s crazy._

Psh, _please. I know the human mind inside and out,_ Bill thought dismissively. _I’ve poked around in people’s heads before, gotten to know what it’s like in there. They don’t vary too much, y’know, once you get past those outer layers it’s kinda ‘seen one, seen ‘em all.’ But when you find magic hovering in there somewhere, things get interesting._

If Dipper focused on the headspace where their thoughts mingled, he could pick out something.

_What do you mean ‘my magic ball was unnaturally big?’_

_Shit, you saw that? You’re getting better at this. Well, I guess you can know. Most potential magic-wielders, their magic visual is half that size._

Dipper was genuinely shocked. _You’re serious?_

 _As a heart attack! You’ve got some serious bloodborne talent there. I gotta say, I knew you had more ability than the rest of your family, but I wasn’t sure how much. Hm._ Much  _more than the general populace, that's for sure. You're a real diamond in the rough, little tree._

Dipper's presence shifted in a combination of discomfort and  _pride._ He supposed that everyone liked to be told that they were special, but still. He didn't want to trust Bill's judgement.

 _So are we, like, done here now?_ he asked; he knew Bill wouldn't answer any more questions on the topic of his magic.

 _Oh, yeah, we can leave your motor controls. Any other part of your brain you wanna fiddle with? We could poke around in muscle memory, that’s not too far off, imagine if you forgot how to_ drive _\- ooh, or I could replace some of your English words with words from other languages! That sounds_ hilarious.

_Okay, yeah, no, we’re not doing any of that._

_Then what can I do? Oh, I know -_

Bill’s presence disappeared.

All the shields were up, then. _Bill?? Where th’ hell did you go?_ Dipper demanded, shouting into the headspace. _Don’t fuck with my head, you asshole!_

 _Language!_ came Bill’s cheerful voice across a great distance. _You swear a_ lot, _little tree, we should start a swear jar._

Dipper knew that if he could break their physical connection, Bill wouldn’t be able to do anything in his mind, but at that moment he didn’t even feel like he _had_ a body or a corporeal form of any kind. He couldn’t feel their heads touching or his own hands or his feet, which he knew would be asleep by now because of how long he’d been kneeling on them. He tried in vain to move, but there was nothing.

The headspace was almost eerily quiet. There was emotion, lots of rapidfire wild emotion and their corresponding flashing colors, but no thoughts. Bill was intentionally hiding everything he was thinking. Dipper couldn’t even tell where he was in his brain. He could be anywhere, messing up anything. Dipper wasn’t even sure how to leave the motor controls and get back to the headspace, which was the default place for the mental presences.

He felt something near his temples, a light pushing and prodding. _Get out of there! I don’t know what you’re doing, but -_

 _What’re you still doing in the motor controls?_ Bill asked, amused, his voice again coming from far off. _You gotta come over here!_

And in milliseconds Dipper had jumped from one section of his brain to another, mental teleportation. This darkness was richer and had volume, a heavy darkness. It wasn’t just base logic and function, it was sensing and feeling.

 _So is this what’s gonna happen?_ Dipper thought, frustrated, close to panicking. _Whenever we try to do this headspace thing you’re just gonna invade my head? What the fuck is wrong with you??_

Bill sighed heavily.  _You’re right, this isn’t fair to you._

 _Thank you._ Jesus.

 _How about I only do what you_ want _me to do?_

 _I - sure, okay,_  Dipper thought, frustrated. _What I want is for you to get out my head._

 _One more stop._ Bill’s presence disappeared again to reappear elsewhere in Dipper’s head.

Dipper groaned mentally. _Where th’ hell are you now??_

Bill didn’t answer.

 _Whatever you’re doing, hurry up and get out! I don’t want you in here, I’m still learning how to lock up my stuff!_ Despite his progress, Dipper was still having trouble blocking off certain parts of his mind. So far he had only managed to lock current thoughts, not memories or anything else.

So he shifted uncomfortably somewhere in his sensory receptors, heart rattling away far below him, and waited for Bill to do whatever the hell he was doing. Anxiety shook the space he drifted in, shook their shared headspace.

_Okay, done._

There was the sensation of being pulled through a tunnel, and then of surfacing from deep water, and then Dipper’s head banged against the arm of the loveseat and he yelped in shock.

Bill had sat back and was running his hand through his hair, rubbing at his temples. He grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling, and said, “Well, that was a very enlightening little trip. You’ve gotten a lot better at locking up your thoughts - unfortunately, you haven’t yet mastered _keeping_ them a secret. Even the ones you shove out of the way go into the archives.”

Dipper pushed himself up, frowning, and said, “Wait, what d’you -”

Then Bill’s hands were on his face and their foreheads met again and Bill was able to replay some of Dipper’s thoughts back to him.

Dipper froze in horror at what was displayed in the headspace. It was everything he’d tried to crush down, to stomp on and kick into a slot in the wall. It was the reason he cursed his brain on a daily basis. It was evidence of his dirty little secret.

He broke the connection, then, pushing himself away as fast as he could. “That’s - that’s nothing! I don’t want - that’s - okay, it’s not _you,_ exactly, it’s -”

Suddenly he couldn’t stammer anymore and his last jumbled word was choked out because Bill’s hand was around his throat, fingernails sharp against his skin, and his heart and stomach jumped and flattened themselves against his bones. His hands flew to his neck and grabbed at Bill’s fingers, but Bill’s other hand kept them at bay.

“You talk too much,” Bill said, his tone halfway between amused and disappointed. “Such a terrible liar! At least _try_ to make some sense if you’re going to argue, otherwise you’re wasting everybody’s time, come on.” Slowly, he was increasing pressure on Dipper’s neck, his fingers digging deep enough to leave red marks. Dipper’s eyes were wide with panic, tearing at Bill’s hands as he valiantly gasped for air.

Then Bill winced. _“Right,_ I feel your pain. I'll make this quick.” He leaned in close until their noses almost touched, his eyes glowing with fervor. “Part of this soul bond thing means we need to be _honest_ with each other, right? No secrets, _blah blah blah,_ all that. So I want you to tell me the truth.”

Dipper glared at Bill forcefully despite the fact that the pounding in his head was reaching an alarming volume and he couldn’t fucking breathe.

Bill leaned forward another inch or so and their foreheads connected once again, where Bill thought, calmly, _Do you want me?_

The headspace seemed to be flickering in and out, there one second and gone the next, but Dipper had gotten the message. He struggled for coherent thought, had issues with expressing the amount of anger he felt, battling between pride and desire and honesty and _sanity._ Eventually, his heart heavy with repressed denial, alarms going off in his head at the lack of air, he managed to reply, _yes._

Immediately, Bill let go of Dipper’s neck and he gulped down as much air as he could, his chest heaving. He touched at his throat where Bill’s fingers had left their betraying marks on his skin and _seethed,_ strangled breath hissing out of his sore throat.

“You fucking _dick,”_ he rasped out, and then his hands were in Bill’s hair and the distance between them was gone and they were kissing, he was trying desperately to breathe only through his nose so they wouldn’t have to stop.

 _This is_ great _this is_ bad _this is great this is bad this is great,_ Dipper’s mind rambled, trance-like, despite the fact that Bill wasn’t even in his head, their foreheads weren’t touching, he was alone in his own subconscious. Not that he wasn’t getting flashes of what Bill was thinking of, because he was, and they weren’t pretty - but Bill wasn’t able to fuck with his head without the physical connection. He felt a surge of white-hot guilt as he realized that the intense, desperate _want_ that was burning in the pit of his stomach and his heart and behind his eyes belonged to _him_.

He felt Bill smile against his lips, heard him murmur, “You were never a good liar, little tree,” then felt a hand push under his shirt, fingertips that left bruises on his neck minutes ago trailing up his stomach. His breath hitched instinctively, his fingers tightening in Bill’s hair.

“Tell me that you want this.” The words were pressed against Dipper’s open mouth.

Shame and pride begrudgingly took the backseat. “I w - want this,” he mumbled obediently, words barely audible, eyes closed tight.

Bill’s fingernails dug into his waist, scratching down, and Dipper winced in pain as Bill kissed him again, rough and demanding. Dipper was keenly aware of everything, their breathing and Bill’s hands on his waist and every tiny noise or shift. Their foreheads brushed together for milliseconds at a time and in those brief flashes, everything was amplified, every nerve ending pushed to the extreme, their senses maxing out.

Then the mouth on his was gone and there was a different kind of pressure on his neck, sharp pain over the bruises. He put a hand over his mouth to muffle any betraying noise; Bill was fucking _biting at his neck_ and leaving marks and sucking purple hickeys into obvious areas, ones that wouldn’t fade for days and would be a blunt reminder of his own weakness. He pressed his fist hard into his mouth when Bill bit down hard on his collarbone.

“Don’t,” he tried to say, but it came out as a whine laden with contradiction, and Bill laughed onto his bruised skin.

 _“Don’t,”_ Bill mocked, nipping beneath Dipper’s chin. He pulled away for a second, staring at Dipper’s neck and the marks he had left there, the golden light of the lamp reflected in his eyes, then kissed Dipper on the mouth again.

Dipper hated how he responded in kind, his hands latching onto Bill’s shoulders. He kissed back with a kind of fervor that was beyond his control, racing away above his heartbeat and conscious thought, angling his head, pulling himself closer. Bill raked his fingernails hard down Dipper’s side and Dipper gasped out a breathy _“Fuck,”_ the word swallowed up by their kissing.

Bill laughed, his voice low when he teased, “So you like it when I _mark_ you? Make it obvious that you _belong_ to someone?”

Dipper looked away, staring pointedly at the TV, but then there was a hand in his hair, yanking at his curls, pulling him up until their noses were touching. His gaze was full of Bill’s eyes, narrowed into glowing yellow slits.

“I want an answer, little tree."

Dipper sucked in a deep breath, ignoring the pain in his head and the hot pink embarrassment filling the headspace, and mumbled a barely audible _“Yeah.”_ Bill didn’t respond, but leaned forward and brought their foreheads together.

It was a blinding explosion of thought and emotion and every part of Dipper’s brain was lit up, sparking and cracking. The headspace was pulsing with deep red and scarlet, positively roaring, and it was so _good._ He could feel Bill moving slightly and they were barely kissing, their lips barely brushing because their foreheads _had_ to stay connected, like a lifeline, something they desperately needed.

Then that prodding again, fingers close to the soft darkness of his sensory receptors, pushing lightly at the nerves, and Dipper’s back arched and he fisted his hands in the fabric of Bill’s shirt, noises torn from the back of his throat. He didn’t know what Bill was doing or _how_ he was doing it but it felt _amazing,_ it was in his head and then it was in his blood, burning inside his body. Even the pain of Bill’s fingernails on his waist and hips and the sore bruises on his neck felt _good,_ weirdly good.

Bill heard this, felt this, and even in the headspace his laugh was low. _Oh, you_ like _pain?_

The embarrassment flickered between hot and pale pink, barely a speck of color against the overpowering red haze. _Only because you’re making me,_ Dipper managed to retort, thinking coherently being very difficult as blood continued to leave his head.

 _I’m not_ making _you like anything. I’m just taking the things you already feel and making them better._ The sentence was punctuated with a shock to the senses that sent Dipper reeling, moaning profanity into Bill’s mouth.

When Bill pulled away Dipper _keened,_ a sound he didn’t even recognize as his own, tugging at Bill’s shirt.

Bill pushed his bangs out of his forehead - rather uselessly, as they fell back into his face - and jerked his head. “Get on your bed.”

Dipper unfastened his fingers and brought his hands back down, but he didn’t move. His mind was in an aftershock and he could hardly breathe.

Then there was a hand on his neck again and Bill was staring coldly down at him. “I shouldn’t have to tell you twice.”

Dipper nodded hastily and scrambled off the couch, nearly tripping over his own feet and falling to the floor in the process. His vision was blurred at the edges and his mind was screaming at itself, rational thought against the fiery want that scorched his insides. Warring factions faced off against each other in his mess of a brain, fighting and clashing and giving him one hell of a headache.

His desire won. He crawled onto his bed and sat back against the pillows, knees bent, hands planted against the sheets. His heart thumped wildly against his ribcage, offbeat and loud and way too fast. He closed his eyes against what he knew was coming, unable to face reality.

Bill was there very abruptly, like time had skipped a few seconds, and then he was pushing Dipper’s shirt up to his armpits and had a knee between his legs. He went for Dipper’s neck again, kissing at any spot not mottled by bruises or bitemarks, and shoved his knee forward.

Dipper’s head snapped back, mouth open in a silent shout and his eyes wide open. Bill was rocking his knee forward in a rhythm now, his hands on Dipper’s waist and sliding down, fumbling with the button and zipper of his jeans. Dipper’s breath hitched in his throat and he slung his arms around Bill’s shoulders, again grabbing handfuls of his shirt.

Of fucking _course_ that was when Bill withdrew, wiping his mouth of blood - Dipper hadn’t even realized his neck was bleeding - and stopped moving. He held Dipper by his chin, his teeth bared slightly in a smile, and said, “Beg.”

Dipper stared at him in disbelief. “No way in _hell_ am I begging for you,” he snapped in reply, loosening his grip.

Bill rolled his eyes with a huff and touched his forehead to Dipper’s again. The headspace was the same, pulsing and vibrating and loud and wild. Bill’s metaphorical fingers were light in his senses now, barely grazing his nerves, and it wasn’t enough he needed more _more more,_ Bill ceased the movement completely and the headspace was bursting, burning up, auto-cannibalizing into an impending implosion of some powerful desire _._

 _Please,_ Dipper thought, every part of him in pain. _Please,_ please, _fucking hell._

_Say it out loud._

“Please,” Dipper gasped out, though he hardly heard himself. “Please, please, fuck -”

 _Much better._ Then there was pressure on his nerves, pulling and tugging and prodding and _fuck_ , his whole body was burning up, fire in his stomach, fire in his mind -

Bill’s knee moved away and the headspace was a string of swearing and begging before their hips were pressed together and Bill was swearing too, everything was amazing _amazing fuck,_ Dipper was suddenly hyper-aware of what was happening outside of the headspace, skin on skin and their lips brushing and their hips grinding together, he wanted _he wanted he wanted -_

Bill broke the connection and kissed Dipper roughly before he could react, nipping at his lower lip. _"What_ do you want?" he murmured, one hand on Dipper’s neck, the other on his hip.

"Want this," Dipper mumbled in a voice he didn’t recognize, breathless and needy. "Want you, _fuck,_ please -”

 _“Fuck,”_ Bill growled, and he grabbed Dipper’s legs for leverage, pushing them forward. Dipper fisted his hands in Bill’s shirt and brought their foreheads together again.

The headspace was still pulsing, bright and hot, the typical darkness all but burned out. It was louder, too, their emotions and thoughts slamming against each other and drowning each other out. Half of Dipper’s mind was begging, the other half screaming at him for begging, and Bill was just fucking _laughing,_ his hips rocking forward without rhythm.

 _Please_ , Dipper thought, _please, just_ -

 _You_ want _me in your head?_ Bill asked, light and mocking. _I thought you didn’t like me poking around in there._

 _Shut the fuck up, please, just_ \- Dipper threw the last of his pride out the metaphorical window - _touch_ _me, fuck, somehow, please, I want it -_

The whole fucking headspace was _smug_ , victorious and smug and, in the corner, Dipper’s humiliation flickered pink and grey.

 _You sound your best when you’re begging,_ Bill thought, and he moved to Dipper’s nerves, then snapped his hips forward and pulled out all the stops.

Dipper threw his head back and _shouted_ , knuckles white against Bill’s shoulders, but only until Bill dragged him forward by his hair and kissed him hard enough to shut him up, pressed their hips together and grabbed at the small of Dipper's back to grind against him. Dipper whimpered nothings into Bill’s mouth, panting as the roaring high started to burn out of his veins, his hips still jerking forward. Eventually they collapsed back onto the bed, their backs flat and their breathing swallowed up by each other.

He wasn’t sure how long they laid there, but after a certain amount of time the mess he had made of his pants became too uncomfortable to stand and he pushed weakly at Bill in an attempt to get him to move.

Bill, understanding, backed up and knelt. His hair was a mess and all of his clothes were wrinkled and he looked fucking _great,_ and Dipper hated himself for thinking this, mentally hitting himself over the head.

Bill grinned at him, still smug despite his exertion, his chest still moving with his breathing. _Do I? Well, thanks._

Dipper froze.

_Wait._

The headspace should be flickering with vague images and barely there thoughts but it was _vivid,_ he could see _himself,_ himself the way he was ten minutes ago with his face flushed bright red and his hair tangled and splayed against the pillows. He could hear his own fucking _noises._

He stared at Bill, his eyes wide in shock. _We can -_

Bill nodded. _We can._

Dipper couldn’t help but burst into laughter. He held his head in his hands. _Holy shit! Holy shit, we can just - we’re fucking_ telepathic! _I_ _t happened! Holy shit!_ The headspace, which had just calmed down, was buzzing again, thrill and amazement, bright teal-greens.

 _Th_ is _is really incredible,_  Bill thought, only mildly surprised. _I thought it would take a lot longer, but I guess something triggered the response._

Dipper paused. _Do you think -_

_Yep._

Dipper groaned for a consecutive 15 seconds. _So getting somewhere between 2nd and 3rd base gave us telepathic powers._

_Yep._

_I don’t have words to describe how fucking stupid that is._

Bill laughed and got up, pushed his hair back from his face and smoothed out his clothes. _I suppose this means our_ physical  _connections enhance our_ mental  _connections. Isn't that interesting. We can take advantage of that._

 _Uh, no, we're not doing that,_ said Dipper firmly, looking away from Bill and trying to fix his sex hair.  _I don't know what you're thinking, but this isn't about to be a regular thing._

 _Why not?_ Bill asked innocently.

To Dipper's relief, his reply was interrupted by Mabel shouting at them from downstairs. "GUYS! COME EAT!"

Dipper rolled over and set his feet on the floor, shaking his head. _It's not happening again, end of discussion._ _I need to change, get out._

Bill shrugged. _Whatever you say._ Dipper saw himself in the headspace again in some very compromising positions and he snapped, _Get that shit out of here!_

Bill just laughed again and left, scratching at the back of his neck. The door swung shut behind him.

Dipper couldn't help but stare at the door and think about what they'd just done, what he'd just  _allowed_ to happen. His mind was still full of  _Bill,_ the intensity in his eyes when he stared at him and his teeth in his neck and his voice and those  _words_ in his voice and the way he touched him. Dipper didn't remember the last time he'd reacted in such a way to someone touching him. They fit together so well that it scared him.

Mostly to distract himself, he wondered again about the tattoo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **last edited: 3.28.17**  
>  i forgot i casually dissed myself in this chapter. ("I don't have words to describe how fucking stupid that is.") past me is harsh.


	8. Chapter Eight

Within the next week, any kind of routine or normalcy that Dipper had fallen into was given a rude awakening as the downsides of being symbiotically bound to a demon poked their ugly heads up again.

Less than 18 hours into this new predicament, Dipper decided he infinitely preferred _not_ knowing what Bill was thinking to knowing almost everything he was thinking about at all times. For one thing, the processing power of a (nearly) omnipotent being was at least three times that of a human’s, so everything was cycling through Dipper’s head at lightspeed, cramming his head full of images and noises that constantly interrupted his own thoughts and gave him the worst headaches of his life. And because Bill chose to block out many of his thoughts, it was like having a permanent, erratic strobe light installed directly into his brain.

Of course, Mabel had been ecstatic at the news, and had immediately jumped around them asking a billion questions when they told her at dinner. Dipper really did think it was cool - fascinating, really, he wanted to do more research - but considering how much of an inconvenience Bill was turning it into, it was hard to be super enthusiastic. Especially with what Bill chose to think about, just to embarrass him and piss him off.

So he clicked at every possible link he found online, excepting those that practically screamed ‘virus,’ trying to learn more about what the soul bond entailed. Bill was only helpful when he chose to be, so Dipper put most of his faith in the internet. He spent much of his free time blasting music through earbuds and sifting through endless websites advertising psychics or ancient dark magic trinkets or whatever, hunting for information, for _something._

It was 10:00 at night on a Tuesday and Dipper was running his hands through his already tangled hair, the bags under his eyes even more pronounced than usual. He had followed a promising lead and had had a phone conversation in very broken Spanish only to find yet another scam website trying to sucker people out of their money. Earlier in the day, though, he had discovered that the most recent site of a soul bond ritual was in a city in Lithuania, which could be promising.

He was just wondering how difficult Lithuanian was to learn and how much a plane ticket would cost when there was a knock on his door. He shook his head and rubbed at his eyes, then called, “Come in!”

It was Mabel, her expression ambiguous. “Hey, can I talk to you?”

Dipper froze. _No good conversations start like that. Oh God, what happened. Something bad happened. Somebody died. Somebody’s sick. We’re broke. Shit, what if she saw these fucking hickeys, oh my God, I’ve been wearing nothing but collared shirts and I bought concealer, she can’t have - but what if she did?? I can never look her in the eye again, shit shit -_

“Dipper?” Mabel prompted.

“Right! Yes, yeah, yeah, talk.” He gestured wildly with his hand and shifted his computer off his lap.

“Okay, cool.” She shut the door behind her and crossed the room to sit on his bed. “Okay, this is really stupid and I _know_ you’re not _trying_ to do this but…” She sighed and looked up at the ceiling, swinging her feet. “I feel like I’m being shut out by you guys.”

Dipper stared at her. “You feel like _me and Bill_ are shutting you out? Me and _him._ Shutting _you_ out. My twin sister.” A low, sickly feeling of disappointment settled in the back of his throat and he couldn’t swallow it down. _How could I not have noticed this?_

She made a frustrated noise and pushed some hair behind her ear. “Is it that hard to believe?? I mean, c’mon, Dip, you guys have a weird telepathic mind connection now, your souls are bonded together for all of eternity, that’s like, the closest two people can get to each other!”

“Okay, no, I get that, but like...Mabel, I never _wanted_ any of that, like, never in a thousand years.” Dipper rubbed his temples; Bill was watching some TV show and the whole thing was playing rather loudly in the headspace.

 _Can you think a little quieter?_ Dipper asked, annoyed.

 _Oops, sorry._ The volume turned down to a light background noise and Dipper did his best to push the vibrant images off to a corner so he could think properly.

“Anyway...geez, look, it sounds cool, and - and it _is_ cool, I didn’t think it was even possible, but I never wanted to be this close to anyone, especially _that.”_

 _Excuse me, ‘that?’_ Bill thought, amused and a little offended.

“So I guess...I can understand why that’s concerning you but I swear, I’m not _trying_ to shut you out, I don’t _want_ to shut you out,” Dipper promised, dismayed. “And I’m really sorry that I’ve been doing that, it’s not gonna happen anymore. We can totally hang out more, just the two of us, if that helps at all.”

Mabel beamed and threw her arms around him. “Aw, bro, thank you!”

He laughed and hugged her back a little awkwardly. “You’re my twin, Mabes. No matter how weird the connection is between Bill and I, we’ll _always_ be closer.” He hoped Bill registered his rejection of their relationship.

She pulled away and sat back on the bed. “Yeah, I - I know, it’s just so strange now.” She frowned, staring out the window behind Dipper’s head. “I guess I thought that once we became real adults, we’d put all this craziness behind us.” Dipper saw new frown lines between her eyebrows and felt a rush of frustration towards their situation. “I mean, I know things are fine, and Bill is weirdly _nice,_ which kinda freaks me out, but...I dunno, I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

He sighed and scooted over to put an arm around her shoulder. “I know. I’m sorry I’m putting you through this.”

She turned to him, affronted. “You’re putting _me_ through this?? I should be feeling sorry for _you,_ dipshit.”

Dipper grinned and pretended to blush. “Aw, you used my _special_ nickname.”

“Shut up,” Mabel grumbled, pushing him over, smiling slightly. “Seriously, though, is it.. _.bad?”_

Dipper shrugged. “Not always. It used to be a lot easier, but now that we’re in each other’s heads all the time, it’s like...having a TV station beamed directly into your brain. Except the TV station is playing four different shows at once, all about different things, and none of the dialogue is matching up, and it’s just a total shitshow and you can’t turn it off.” He made a noise of disgust. “It’s probably because he’s like a multidimensional being or whatever, but he can think about a million things at once and not get confused. _Me,_ a simple human, however…”

“Wow, I _do_ feel sorry for you, that sounds crappy,” said Mabel sympathetically. “Is there anything I can do, like, at all?”

“I dunno. Probably not.” Dipper rubbed his forehead. “On the plus side, we don’t have to touch our heads together if we want to show each other something, _that_ was really annoying.”

 _“Sure_ it was,” Mabel teased, punching her brother in the shoulder.

Dipper inconspicuously tugged at the collar of his shirt. “Oh, whatever.”

Mabel frowned. “Wait, so if you’re in each other’s heads this entire time, does that mean Bill just heard this entire conversation?”

_Yep._

“He says yeah.”

“Do you get any privacy?” she asked, looking critical. “Do I need to smack him?”

Bill started laughing. _Oh, please,_ anything _but siccing your sister on me._

“Y’know what? I would love for you to smack him.”

_Oh, come on._

Mabel cracked her knuckles and pushed up the sleeves of her t-shirt to her shoulders. “If one more thing happens, that guy’s got a big storm comin’. You let me know, Dip, and he’ll be biting the curb.”

“He’s laughing at you,” Dipper replied; mentally, he said, _I really will give her free reign on this. Do you not remember senior prom?_

Mabel’s mouth dropped open in indignance. “What?! Oh, he’s going _down!_ He’s going down like a - like - like _something that goes down!”_

Memories of senior prom flickered through the headspace along with horror and panic. _Okay, okay, call her off, I know I wasn’t really there but I saw the whole thing, and I gotta say, I have never seen a beatdown quite like that. Sheesh, you fight dirty._

Dipper grinned. _Sometimes you gotta bring out the big guns. Say you’re sorry._

_Sorry for what??_

_Sorry for being an annoying douche._

Dipper could practically see Bill rolling his eyes in the over-exaggerated, dramatic way he always did. _I’m sorry for being an ‘annoying douche,’_ he thought.

 _Thank you._ “He says he’s sorry, so, no punching, I guess.”

“You sure?”

“Don’t worry, if he screws up, you have my permission to give him hell.”

“Oh, I will. _I will.”_ Mabel pushed yet more hair out of her face and slid down, her legs splayed out and her feet flat on the floor. She gestured at the laptop. “What’re you doing? I didn’t mean to interrupt you earlier.”

“Oh, no, no, nothing important. Well - do you know anyone from Lithuania?”

Mabel shook her head. “Nope - wait, _yes!”_

Dipper sat straight up. “You do??”

“Yeah! Well, she was born in America, but her parents were immigrants, and she spoke the language and she knew all kinds of cool stuff, she and I played volleyball together in junior n’ senior year. Did you know Aldona Kalnietis? I don’t think I’m pronouncing her last name right…”

Dipper shook his head, his heart jumping; it was a total long shot, but maybe this could go somewhere. “That’s great, er, no, I don’t think I ever met her. Could you get in contact with her?”

“Er, maybe, we're friends on Facebook, why?” Mabel asked curiously.

“Well, I’m looking for more stuff about the soul bond, right? The ritual, what came after the ritual, especially the ones involving human transmutation.” Mabel nodded and Dipper continued. “So the most recent human transmutation was in Lithuania, and the person who did it also had a soul bond with the immortal, so I was hoping I could get some information out of that, but, as you know, I don’t speak Lithuanian, so I was kinda stuck there, but if you could get your friend to, like, translate some documents or whatever...:”

Mabel shrugged helplessly. “I dunno, Dip, we’d have to do some serious emailing. I could try to talk to her again, see if she’d do a favor for us. What would you tell her it was for?”

“Uh, geez, like, a book or something? I dunno, you can research pretty much anything if you say it’s for a novel,” said Dipper sagely.

“That’s so true...okay, I’ll see what I can do about getting in contact with her. Have you seen anything else promising?”

Dipper heaved a sigh and grabbed his laptop again, scrolling through yet another page of search results. “Oh, here’s one I haven’t looked at yet...hey, lookit that, it’s a guy in Oregon.”

“Wait, really??” Mabel leaned over to look at the link. “Click on it!”

Dipper checked for the fortieth time that day that he had popups blocked, then clicked on the link. What popped up was a lot of black and white text on a purple background advertising a man who claimed to be in contact with the spirit world and could talk to immortal beings. Unlike some of the other websites, it was actually readable, and even aesthetically pleasing.

Dipper snorted. “Just looks like more crap to me.”

Mabel squinted at the page. “Says that for a small fee he can summon and talk to angels, gods, spirits, _demons_...and his business is in Newport, oh man, it’s been forever since we’ve been to Newport!”

“Mabel, we are _not_ driving six hours to Newport so some weird dude can charge me 80 dollars and pretend to talk to God.”

“Aw, come on, he might know something, you never know! Be optimistic.” Mabel ruffled her brother’s hair and he batted her hand away. “I mean, his website looks nice.”

Dipper decided to humor her and click on some of the links. “He’s been in business since...wow, 1991? And look at all these people who’ve left comments on his page...not one of them is negative.”

Mabel pointed. “That says he’s attended tons of, like, events and stuff associated with this kinda thing. No pictures of him, though, that’s weird.” She nudged Dipper with her shoulder. “He could be the guy! He claims to know everything about immortal beings…”

“Yeah, but would he know why an immortal in a human body has a weird tattoo on his neck?” Dipper countered, though he did make a note of the location in Newport.

"Okay, but this is one of the best leads out of all that other crap, right?”

 _She has a point,_ said Bill, and Dipper nearly jumped.

_Hoooly shit, almost forgot you were there._

_You were thinking so hard you kinda drowned out everything else. Sounds interesting, though. It’s worth looking into. Also, when you’re done, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about._

_You too? You can talk to me when Mabel goes to sleep._

_Fine._

“Well, Bill says it’s worth looking into, so -”

“We’re goin’ to Newport!” said Mabel excitedly, clapping her hands together. “I’ll check the weather and look at beach houses!” She jumped off of Dipper’s bed and skipped towards the door.

“Okay, goodnight, don’t rent anything yet!” Dipper called as she left.

“Fine, g’night! Love you!”

"Love you too."

She closed the door behind her.

Dipper went back to his research, idly scrolling. _So what is it?_ he asked.

_Well, I’ve been looking at your dreams, and I’m noticing a trend._

Dipper frowned. _You’ve been looking at my dreams??_

 _Uh, hello? Dream demon? Dream demon who just so happens to have his_ soul _bonded to you? Yes, I’ve seen your dreams._

Dipper shifted uncomfortably. _Right, okay._ He forced some rather unsavory thoughts as far away from the headspace as possible, shoving them into nooks and crannies of his brain.

_Do you remember your nightmares?_

_Um...lately, no. I just remember being really freaked out._

_Hm. Hang on._

The headspace flickered absentmindedly for a few seconds before Bill pulled up one of Dipper’s nightmares.

Dipper flinched as familiar, horrific images flashed through his head. It was those fucking black hands, the weird inhuman hands attached to the never-ending noodle arms that chased him no matter how far he ran. In this dream he sprinted through what was barely a city, a town with buildings that were longer than they were tall, and streets devoid of parked cars. Even as he ran, the asphalt cracked under his feet and he jumped around the jagged lines. The hands pursued him endlessly, grabbing at the hood of his jacket and at his hair, and he couldn’t escape. The nightmare ended when a hand grabbed at Dream Dipper’s neck; he shouted and the headspace went black.

_You don’t remember that?_

Dipper shuddered. _I do now, yikes. So are they all like this?_

_The black hands, yeah. The setting varies, but it’s usually cities. Sometimes forests._

_What about that first dream I had with the - the hole in the sky, remember?_

Bill laughed. _Oh, I kinda figured that one out. Turns out your anxiety and other ‘conflicting feelings’ created that whole mess. Pretty freaky!_  His mind was blank. _No, I’m more concerned about the hands, because they’re practically screaming ‘supernatural involvement.’_

This piqued Dipper’s interest; he found himself sitting straighter. He closed his eyes to better focus on the conversation. _So, one of your people is messing around in my head?_

 _I wouldn’t call them ‘my people,’ because other demons...well, they wouldn’t do that. Not intentionally._ Bill’s mind was suspiciously blank.

_Why not?_

_They have their reasons._ The absence of explanation persisted. _My current theory is...okay, you were describing the headspace like a TV station._

_Yeah…_

_So maybe your brain’s just picking up on a stray signal that someone forgot to turn off._

Dipper frowned. _That’s possible?? Some immortal can send out a signal?_

 _Some of them can, yeah. Another dream demon might have slacked off on their nightmare duties, so they created a ‘station’ where they could just broadcast variations of the same thing out to tons of different people. Saves them a lot of time and effort, but the lack of authenticity is so_ embarrassing.

_There’s more dream demons??_

_What, you expect me to handle all seven billion of you meat sticks?_ Bill scoffed. _Too much work. I have other things to do. No, there’s quite a few of us. We just handle different duties, different regions, et cetera._

Dipper grimaced. _As if my paranoia couldn’t get any worse._

 _Aw, hey, don’t worry about that,_ I’m _the only one who’s been watching your family for three generations,_ Bill thought jovially. _You got nothin’ to freak out about!_

Dipper rolled his eyes and pushed hair out of his face. _Thanks for the reassurance._ _So, is there a way to like, stop picking up on this ‘signal?’_

_Not sure yet, but I’ll figure something out._

_Great. Well, I’m gonna go to bed, try not to scream at me in your sleep._

_Then you keep a can on those weird dreams of yours._  Bill thought up a classical concerto that Dipper didn’t recognize, something with lots of flutes. He shifted uncomfortably at the mention of his ‘weird dreams,’ as there was one subsection under that category that he was hoping to hide from Bill forever.

 _Trust me, I try my best._ Dipper shut off his laptop and set it on the floor by his bed, then turned out the light and rolled over. He buried his face in his pillow and did his best to ignore the headspace until he finally fell asleep.

 

“DIPPER!”

He shot up, abruptly awake, staring towards the source of the noise: Mabel stood in the doorway, her eyes bright with excitement and her hands balled into fists at her sides.

Now that his heart wasn’t trying to murder his ribcage, Dipper was able to calm down. “Holy _hell,_ Mabel, what?”

“We’re goin’ to Newport!” she sang, smiling toothily and bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“What?? Ow -” Dipper rubbed his neck. “Uh, _okay,_ I figured you would check with me first -”

“Well, even if the weird dude is a bust, at least we get to stay at a really nice beach house for four days! And yes, I already paid for the rental,” Mabel added before Dipper could say anything. “Relax, we’ll leave Thursday night and come back Monday afternoon, it’ll be great to get away!”

“Mabel, we’ve only been here for a month n’ a half.”

“But _vacation,_ Dip. And it’s so pretty on the coast, and we have the money, and - and _vacation!”_

He sighed and cracked his back. “Yeah, I know. Well, like it or not, we’re going, I guess.”

“And we’re gonna have so much fun! It’s only like a ten minute walk from the town, th’ beach is literally right outside our door, we can just lay around and swim and try to get tan!” Mabel glanced at her arms and frowned. “I gotta get on that fast.”

“How cold is it over there?”

“It’s actually weirdly warm, it’s like, in the upper 70’s.”

“Wow, that’s pretty nice, considering it’s the Oregon coast.” Dipper yawned. “I’m surprised you could get a rental this late.”

Mabel shrugged. “I guess this wasn’t a popular weekend! Anyway, come downstairs and eat something, we’re opening in two hours.” She flounced out the door, her hair bobbing at her waist.

Dipper headed for his closet and fished around for some more collared shirts; the annoyingly purple hickeys on his neck had been there for three days and they weren’t going anywhere.

As he rummaged, he thought, _Hey, Bill?_

_Yeah?_

_Fuck you._

_I'm sure you'd like to._

_Shut the hell up._

The demon burst into laughter. _So, why this time?_

 _I can’t wear a normal fucking shirt._ Dipper pushed everything down to one end to discover that he was out of collared shirts. “Oh, fuck me with a spoon,” he grumbled to empty air.

_Sounds uncomfortable._

_Shut up, this is all your fault._

_Please, like you weren’t begging for it. Do I need to_ show _you, or -_

Dipper grimaced. _I’m good, thanks._ He went to check his laundry basket for something that could be re-worn.

_I know you said we’re not talking about this, but -_

Dipper quickly cut off Bill’s drawl. _We’re not talking about it ever, got it?_

 _Aw, are we going through some denial?_ Bill teased.

_No, we’re going through some ‘we’re not talking about this.’_

_You’re so_ funny. _I could make you confess again, you know, it’s really easy._ Bill’s mental voice dropped a few decibels and Dipper instinctively touched two fingers to a maroon bruise. One of the dreams he’d had that night flickered briefly in the headspace before he promptly booted it out.

 _Stop,_ he thought firmly, rifling through shirts. _Look, whatever happened -_

_Are you going to try to blame everything on me again? You can’t keep making me your scapegoat._

_I - we’re dropping this._ Dipper found a button-down shirt that hadn’t suffered too much and took off his t-shirt to put it on. Once he was wearing actual clothes, he went downstairs.

Breakfast was a bit of an awkward affair; Mabel jabbered on about vacation as Dipper pointedly avoided looking Bill in the eye and kept the headspace as quiet as possible on his end. Bill, of course, thought this was highly amusing and purposefully thought about the only thing Dipper had declared off limits.

Mabel only noticed the tension when she asked a question and no one answered. “Guys? Guys!” She punched Dipper on the shoulder and he snapped out of it, blushing.

“Ow! Mabel -”

“I asked you a question! What time do you want to leave on Thursday? I was thinking like right after closing time, considering it’s gonna take at least six hours to get out there. We can trade off driving, of course. Does that work?”

“Y-yeah, yeah, that works out fine.” Dipper hurriedly got away from the table and practically threw his dishes in the dishwasher, then went to get the rest of the coffee.

He poured the last of it into his mug, almost to the brim, and turned to get the milk out of the refrigerator, sipping at the black coffee. He glanced up from the mug and Bill was literally one foot away from him and he yelped, slipping backwards and spilling coffee down the front of his shirt.

 _“Son of a - !_ Holy shit, do you still know _nothing_ about social etiquette?” Dipper snapped, wrinkling his nose down at his ruined shirt.

“Sorry, didn’t see you there,” said Bill, raising his hands and widening his eyes in faux innocence, though a smile twitched at the corner of his mouth and he laughed like a hyena in the headspace.

 _“God,”_ Dipper grumbled to himself, shrugging out of the button-down and looking disgusted. He tossed it into the sink just as Mabel came into the kitchen, looking alarmed.

“You okay? Er, what happened?”

“Bill scared the crap out of me and I spilled some coffee, no big deal,” Dipper grunted. He grabbed a spare cloth from the island and ran it under cold water, then mopped off his chest and the cloth joined his shirt in the sink. He checked to see if there was any coffee left in the mug, discovered that there was, and resumed his initial mission of getting milk. Throughout this, Mabel was suspiciously quiet, and Bill was still cackling.

 _What the hell are you still laughing at?_ Dipper asked, annoyed.

“Hey, er, Dip?”

“Yeah, what?” He didn’t bother to look up from pouring milk into the mug.

“You, ah, you wanna tell me somethin’?”

He frowned over at her. “What’re you talking about?”

Mabel gestured at her neck, looking like she was holding back a smile, and Dipper mirrored her actions. His hand froze when his index and middle fingers touched a hickey on the right side of his throat.

 _SHIT._ He repeated himself out loud.

Mabel giggled. “So how long have those been there? You can’t say Jade or Michael, I know hickeys can’t last more than at most a week and a half, I did this experiment -”

“Ew, Mabel, gross. no, it’s, uh.” Dipper fumbled for an alibi. _I assume you’re throwing me to the wolves with this one?_ he thought dryly.

 _Yep!_ was Bill’s cheerful reply. _Have fun!_

 _Fuck you._ “Okay, so y’know last week when you were sick and you took all those pills and you were out for, like, 24 hours?”

Mabel shuddered. “Yeah, those were some _weird_ fever dreams I had. Continue.”

“Well” - _I’m not letting you get out of this one_ \- “Bill convinced me to go to a bar with him, because he hadn’t really had a lot of alcohol since he’d been human and he wanted to see what kinds of drinks we had, he mentioned that he possessed a few people in the last century or so and had drank a bit when he was in their bodies but he wanted to try some different stuff, _so,”_ Dipper rambled on, “we went out at like eight, he was busy trying everything the bartender could make, so I ended up talking to this girl, we had a few drinks, we ended up making out in the parking lot. Happy?”

Mabel stared at him. “You met a _girl? Here?”_

Dipper avoided her gaze; she was always able to tell when he was lying. “Yeah, she was from...er, Boulder, I think, somewhere in Colorado, we were both kinda drunk. You don’t have to sound so _surprised,”_ he grumbled.

She whistled. “Geez. And you didn’t tell me??” she demanded. “C’mon, bro, I want to know about the crazy adventures you have.”

“It was hardly an adventure, we just went to that bar half a block down the street from Jerry’s bait shop, you know the place.”

She glanced at Bill, who was looking at Dipper with his eyebrows raised slightly in mild surprise, impressed with his quick thinking. “And what happened to you?” she asked him.

Dipper jumped in. _“He_ drank too much and threw up in the bathroom. And then he threw up out the window of the taxi that drove us home.”

Now Bill’s expression was simply deadpan, and he frowned at Dipper. _I would_ not _have thrown up from drinking._

_Well, now you have._

“Wow. Well, congratulations, you had your first drinking-too-much incident!” Mabel had to stand on her tip-toes to clap Bill on the shoulder. “We hit those milestones a while ago.” She whistled and shook her head. “A _while_ ago. Dip, remember -”

“- 11th grade, the Van Buren house party? Yeah, I remember, and I didn’t even _go._ It was all over Facebook. So many DUI’s...”

Mabel shook her head. “And _that’s_ why I don’t drink. Anyway! Go put on a shirt, loverboy,” she joked, shoving her brother towards the lounge. “And start packing!” She made a noise close to a squeal. “We’re really going to the beach! Oh, this is gonna be so nice, what th’ heck am I gonna bring...”

Dipper goose-stepped upstairs, still burning with embarrassment and hot coffee, and rifled around in his room for another shirt.

 _Gotta hand it to ya, you’re good at thinking on your toes,_ Bill commented. _Impressive._

The headspace hummed with orange anger. _You fucking planned that, didn’t you? Asshole._

The humming rose to a pitch akin to a buzzing bee, and the color flickered to yellow. _Embarrassing you is hilarious._

_Whatever._

Dipper showered and dressed and made sure that everything was ready for the day, then hurried back upstairs and pulled out his laptop.

“Guess I should figure out more about this guy,” he muttered, looking through his own browser history. The guy called himself the True Psychic, which Dipper found rather arrogant; he also referred to himself in the third person in his bio on his website - another point for arrogant - and said that he didn’t rely on cheap tactics or objects to contact spirits and immortals when “all one has to do is open their minds and allow other voices to enter.”

 _Sounds like some of the stoner guys I knew in college,_ Dipper thought dryly, but kept clicking. Through more research he found articles written about this man, still only calling him the True Psychic, papers written by Mr. True Psychic himself, and even forum posts for people who believed in that kind of thing, most raving about his business and how they got to talk to their dead grandparents or contacted their guardian angel or whatever.

He was scrolling through a seemingly endless forum post about such topics when something struck his eye - the one comment that wasn’t extolling the True Psychic. It was only posted two days ago.

Dipper squinted and leaned in close to read it better; the typer had decided to use a black text on a dark gray background, _what the hell, website designers?_

The comment read, “Recently went to see the True Psychic with my son. Everything you all have said is true, he was really authentic and not gaudy or ostentatious, but still very mysterious and otherworldly. I’ve been visiting psychics for years, and have seen a fair share of odd events, but what happened with the True Psychic was magical. After our appointment, in which we were able to contact my son’s mother, my wife, who died when he was four, he wished us a good afternoon and we left. My son was already in the car when I discovered that I had left my phone in the building. I went back in to retrieve my phone and saw something amazing.

“He was suspended in midair, surrounded by a whirling sphere of purple and blue light. He was saying something in a language I didn’t recognize, and there was something black coming out of his back. I couldn’t tell exactly what it was, maybe something like wings. Despite not knowing what he was saying, it almost sounded like he was having a conversation with somebody. He didn’t see me, as his back was to me, and I got out of there as quickly as I could. I didn’t tell my son what I saw, but I’m posting it here now to find out if anyone has had this experience with him or other psychics. Is it unique only to him? Has anybody else seen anything like this?”

“DIPPER, WE’RE OPENING!” Mabel shouted from downstairs.

When he didn’t shout back an affirmative, she came into his room. “Bro, we’re opening in, like, two minutes.”

He was shocked out of his reverie with her only five feet from him. “Sorry - right, right, coming down.” He closed the laptop without a second glance and jumped to his feet, following her downstairs.

The forum post, along with any replies associated with it, was permanently deleted seconds after Dipper shut the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **last edited: 3.29.17**


	9. Chapter Nine - Pt 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter ended up being a LOT longer than it was supposed to be, so I cut it into two smaller parts.

"Road trip!" Mabel sang, throwing yet another bag into the trunk of the car.

Dipper came out of the house carrying a duffle bag and tossed it in as well. "How many more of these do you have??" he asked incredulously, as there were four bags in the trunk and only one of them was his.

"That's it! Wait, one more." Mabel dashed back inside the house.

Dipper, in order to evade responsibility, got into the driver's seat and made sure the mirrors were adjusted to his comfort. He brushed some dirt off the seat and had barely closed the door when Bill appeared in the seat next to him, his legs already crossed and his phone in his hands.

Dipper jumped and almost smacked his head into the ceiling of the car. “Shit! Holy - geez, right, yep, somehow I’m still not used to that.”

Without looking up from his phone, Bill said, “I call shotgun.”

“That’s - okay, whatever. Mabel might have something to say about that.”

The headspace hummed lightly, absentmindedly, with a vague sense of anticipation somewhere beneath the churning of wondering and debating.

_It’s possible he knows something._

_But he could be a fraud._

_It hardly matters, if he’s a bust then we just spend the weekend at the beach and there’s no harm done._

_Okay, say he knows something, then what? Would be believe us? What would happen?_

_Then we learn what it is and the mystery is solved and we go back to a normal life._

_It’s not really “normal” when you have a demon living in your house._

_Well,_ sure, _if we’re splitting hairs._

They were snapped out of their mental conversation when Mabel opened the back door and slid in. _“Man,_ I wanted shotgun,” she grumbled, even as she laid down and propped her legs against the window, buckling the seatbelt over her stomach. “Okay, let’s head out, we probably won’t get there until, like, one in the morning.”

Dipper gave her a thumbs up and started the car. The conversation continued as he pulled onto the road that would take them downtown.

_Where’re we going again?_

_Newport, have you ever been to Newport?_

_Can’t say I have._

_Hang on, here._ Dipper fumbled with his memories and allowed some to drift around in the headspace. Sensing Bill’s attention, he made sure to keep everything else firmly under wraps.

Most of the memories were of the ocean; cold gray waves crashing against sandy beaches and tidepools, spear-like rocks sticking out of the water, a 14-year-old Mabel laughing as she poked a sea anemone with her face rosy from the cold. There was also the aquarium that Newport was known for, huge tanks filled with fish and sea plants that rippled and danced. The downtown, too, with colorfully painted shops and ice cream stores to brighten up the gloomy gray of the sky. Mabel ran after seagulls and other birds as disembodied laughter from Dipper echoed throughout the headspace and their father told her to stop terrorizing the animals. She tossed bits of croissant at the birds in response.

Then a view of the bridge at sunset, bright beams of red and gold shining out from behind the purple-tinted clouds and glinting off the metal. Mabel’s face was lit up as she did something on her phone, her fingers racing across the screen, and their parents’ indistinct murmurs came from behind the kids. Dipper pulled out his own phone and entered his passcode, then took a few pictures. In the last one, Mabel jumped in front of it and a picture of her, bug-eyed and making a dumb face, showed up on Dipper’s phone. He complained, but his words were interrupted by their laughter. The memories slipped away as the sunset faded to night, and the last view was in the beach house that the family had stayed at, a light brown ceiling and an ornate bedside lamp, Mabel asleep in the twin bed across the room with a stuffed pig under her arm.

 _Looks like a nice place,_ Bill commented mildly.

 _It was,_ Dipper agreed. _Me n’ Mabel had been fighting more than usual, but that trip made it better for a while._

_I know there was a time when there was a rift between you two -_

_Yeah, you_ would _know, that was when you wouldn’t stop showing up in my dreams,_ Dipper grumbled.

_Hey, it was worth a shot! Possessing you was fun, and having you as a pawn would've been even better!_

_“Geez,_ you guys’re quiet,’ Mabel complained from her position in the backseat. “Talk or something!”

“We _are_ talking,” Dipper retorted. “Just...y’know, in our heads.”

Bill hummed something that sounded vaguely like an old Jason Derulo song.

“Well, let’s _talk_ talk. Hmmm.” Mabel scrolled through something on her phone. “Hey, remember Amberlynn Weggers? Apparently she and Parker Bradley are back together.”

“Hm.”

“I know, right? They were a frickin’ trainwreck! I remember at New Year’s they had this huge fight because apparently he got to third base with Lilly West, but I talked to Lilly and she said that was a filthy lie, but he may have gotten to second base with Lily _Black_ \- are you listening?”

“Not really.”

“This is interesting stuff! C’mon.”

“Mabel, you’ve got a 4-year degree and you still gossip like a high school freshman.”

She scoffed. “You’re never too old for gossip. Plus, it’s on Facebook, anyone can see this.” She laid on her back and continued to scroll through her phone. “Ashley Redfield and Jack Colden are getting married.”

“Really? Married?”

“Yeah! Aw, that’s so sweet, they’re adorable together.”

“Were you good friends with Ashley?”

Mabel shrugged. “I mean, I held her hair back while she was throwing up in the bathroom of an all-night waterpark once, so that’s something.”

“When was _that?”_

“Early September, like, right after classes started, in senior year. Nah, but I’d be really surprised if I was invited to the wedding.” She sighed loudly, dramatically flinging her hands behind her head. “I want to go to a wedding! None of my college friends are gonna get married anytime soon...what about your friends?”

Dipper shook his head. “Are you kidding me? Nate and Kirby and Cole, probably not until they’re, like, 35. Jeff, maybe, but he didn’t have a girlfriend when we graduated.”

“What about, um, who was your nerd friend?”

Dipper grinned. “I have a lot of nerd friends, Mabes.”

“Very true. I mean the guy in your journalism class who was, like, way into the X-Files and Star Trek and stuff. Like, Grade A nerd.”

“That was Andy. I mean, if he manages to find a girl as nerdy as he is, maybe.”

“Yeah, but he was cute, too, like, the cutest nerd I’ve ever met.”

“You just have a thing for blondes,” Dipper accused her. They had made it out of the town and were pulling into the US-97 Northbound. Traffic was mild and the GPS on Dipper’s phone said that the drive was going to be faster than expected.

“I do not a lot!” Mabel folded her arms across her chest, still laying on her back. “Besides, so do you!”

Bill’s mouth twitched.

 _Shut the hell up._ “Only a little.”

_Yeah, don't you prefer redheads?_

_I said shut the hell up._

“Is this what you two got from college, then?” Bill asked, amused. “Gossiping about your classmates?”

Mabel answered with a cheerful, “Yep!” as Dipper hastily said, “No!”

Mabel sat up to reach into her bag and pull out a magazine. “In my defense, there’s not much you can do with a degree in fashion design when you’re running a tourist trap.”

“Fair enough.”

The car ride passed without much incident. Dipper and Mabel traded places at a gas station in Cascadia, Bill climbing into the back seat with Dipper, much to his chagrin, and everybody found ways to entertain themselves. This included dumb car games, singing along to shitty music, and Dipper was even able to practice magic, summoning random things out of their bags and through the open windows from outside. It was during this that Dipper heard Bill genuinely laugh for the first time, with no mockery or teasing, just real laughter. It was when a shoe nearly hit Mabel that she issued the “no magic in the car” order, and the game ended.

Dipper, who hadn’t slept well the night before because of the same freaky nightmares, found himself yawning as they trundled through Corvallis, not even the playlist of bad 80’s synthpop getting through the tired haze that was the headspace.

“Get some sleep, bro, I got this,” said Mabel, taking a swig of Arizona Tea. “I’ll wake you up when we get there.”

“You sure?” he asked, but he had already taken his pillow and propped it up against the left window of the car, and it was too tempting for him to resist.

“I’m sure, just go to sleep.”

“Fine, fine,” he mumbled in reply, and he leaned into the car door with his face pressed into the pillow. He could vaguely hear Mabel turn down the music slightly, and it didn’t take him long to drift into sleep.

 

_It didn’t stop it didn’t stop it didn’t stop THEY’RE COMING they’re coming they’re coming -_

_Oh God oh God oh God get me out GET ME OUT -_

_IT’S HERE IT’S HERE IT’S HERE ITSHEREITSHEREITSHERE -_

_STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOPSTOPSTOP STOP THEM GET ME OUT_

_It’s all black it’s all dark and they’re coming I can feel them I can feel them on me and in my head get me OUT GET THEM OUT GET ME OUT GET THEM OUT -_

 

Dipper violently jolted himself awake, sitting straight up, his chest heaving. The dream stood out clearly in his head; the hands had chased him through the same blocky city, flashes of color standing out briefly before they were extinguished, and he had looked behind him to see them approaching faster than he could run, and as they grabbed at his hair and his throat and his hands and legs and feet, he saw a flash of purple-blue light that left him blinking stupidly in the darkness of the car.

Mabel had noticed this from the rear view mirror. "You okay, Dip?" she asked.

"Y-yeah, m' fine, just...just a weird dream," he said, rubbing his head. "How long was I out?"

"Only like fifteen minutes."

 _I saw your dream,_ Bill thought, and the headspace flickered with an anxious suspicion. _You can remember all of it?_

 _Yeah, it was really vivid._ Dipper rubbed his forehead; the whole front of his brain seemed to hurt. _I swear I could even feel those stupid hands this time._

Bill’s thoughts tossed and turned. Out loud, he said, “If you give me access to your mind, I might be able to turn them off for a night.”

“No way in hell,” Dipper said instantly, leaning back on the pillow. “It’s - they’ll be gone now. Just lemme go back to sleep.” _I’m not letting you poke around in my head, I’m way too tired and pissed off to deal with that right now._

Bill shrugged. “Suit yourself.” _Your loss! I really am just trying to help._

 _Well, I don’t trust you._ Dipper closed his eyes and turned his back on the headspace, ignoring everything except his own barely-there thoughts.

His mind and his heartbeat were slowing down and he felt seconds away from deep, restful sleep when the light flashed at him behind his eyelids and _the hands were there, illuminated by the purple-blue light, reaching for him with the arms that never seemed to end, they were ice cold as they touched his skin -_

“AAAAAH!” he yelped, jerking away from the window again, his hands gripping the upholstery of the car. “Fuck!”

This time Mabel had nearly swerved off the road, thankfully onto the side of the highway and not into another lane. “Geez, bro, are you sure you’re okay?” she asked doubtfully. “Maybe you should -”

“I’m _fine,”_ Dipper said firmly, though his whole body was shaking. “I just - maybe I need to listen to music, or something. It’s just a stupid dream, it’s nothing to freak out over.”

_Seriously, I can help you._

Dipper glared over at Bill. _No way! You’re just gonna manipulate my emotions again and I don’t want any more of that! I’m not letting you fuck with me!_

_Don’t be an idiot, Pine Tree, you’re never gonna get to sleep unless I do this._

_How do I know you won’t -_

_Holy hell, because I’m not_ always _your enemy. You think I_ like _seeing your messed up dreams? It’s convenient for both of us for you to have dreams that don’t scare the shit out of you and leave you exhausted. Especially when these dreams don't even come from_  me. _It's not fair._ _Use_ _some common sense._ As frustrated as he was, Bill still sounded derisive. Dipper supposed that Bill always sounded derisive, but he had fair reason to be suspicious, right?

“...fine,” Dipper relented cautiously. “What d’you need to do?”

Bill gestured to him. “Scoot over. Get comfortable. It’ll be easier if I do this with physical contact.”

“Uh, okay.” Dipper unbuckled his seatbelt and pushed some junk off of the middle seat to sit there.

“Close your eyes.”

Dipper did so, suspicion raising goosebumps on his arms, and then there were hands on either side of his temples, thumbs on his forehead.

“Er, what’re you doing?”

“Putting up barriers.” Dipper pictured miniature fortresses being constructed around his brain to keep out the nightmares. With each second that ticked by, he felt stronger, more protected. It was even  _beautiful,_ blooms of bright cyan and pale green steadily growing larger, he felt it all around and above his head, a dome of light to block the darkness.

“Wow,” was all he could say, the word more breath than voice. “That’s really -”

“It works, but it has its limitations - you can open your eyes now - so really, it’d be better for us to stay physically connected.”

When Dipper opened his eyes, Bill’s hands were still on his face. He pointedly looked out the window at the night and away from the demon’s incensed eyes. “Give me one good reason why I should do that,” he said dryly.

Bill laughed. “Wow, you really just do _not_ want me touching you, do you? Does it make you _uncomfortable?”_ he teased, the fingers on his left hand trailing down to Dipper’s chin.

In the rear view mirror, Mabel's eyebrows were raised to an alarming height as she glanced back at them, and her lips were pursed in an attempt to hold back a smile.

Dipper snatched Bill’s hand by the wrist and slammed it to the seat. _“Fine,_ let’s just do your stupid thing so I can sleep.”

“There’s the spirit! Just lay down and I’ll keep a hand on your forehead, it’ll help.”

Dipper reached over to grab his pillow and, with some reluctance, propped it up against Bill’s leg. He attached the middle seatbelt over his waist and laid down, keeping himself as far away from Bill as possible, even as he put a hand over his forehead again.

“Please tell me this is fine,” Dipper grumbled, his voice partially muffled by the pillow.

“You’re good!” _You’re hilarious._

“Cool.” _You’re a douche._

As much as the circumstances sucked, Dipper was finally able to sleep with no interruptions, no black hands plaguing his dreams, and the night dragged on.

 

“Hey, ‘Tree, wake up.” Something was poking him in the neck. He shifted and turned his head away from it.

There was a laugh, and his whole world shook. “We’re here, c’mon, you gotta wake up.”

“Poke him in the side!” came Mabel’s chipper voice from a few feet away.

“On it.” Bill poked Dipper sharply just below his rib and Dipper practically leaped off the seat, jerked violently to the left, and nearly fell down into the foot space.

 _“Ow,_ fuck, what - what happened, are we here?” he asked sleepily, grabbing vaguely at the back seats and at the compartment between the front seats. “Did I” - he yawned - “how long did I sleep??”

“Couple hours,” Mabel replied as she heaved something out of the trunk. “Help us get all this crap inside, it’s late.”

“Yeah, yeah, jus...just a mo’.” Dipper crawled back onto the seat and sat up, pushing tangled hair out of his face. He took his pillow and stumbled out of the car, tripping onto the walkway that led to the beach house.

Even in the very dimly lit night, he could tell that it was a beautiful house. It was painted a pale shell color, rimmed with blue-gray. It was only one floor but it was long, curved slightly around a natural garden. Broad windows covered much of the walls and Dipper could see into the lounge and what was probably the dining room.

Time passed in a dream-like state as they made their way inside. They were all yawning by the time their suitcases were inside, the door was locked behind them, and the lights were turned on.

“Okay,” said Mabel, stifling a rather high-pitched yawn with her hand, “there’s - there’s two bedrooms, n’ one’s down there, n’ the other’s down there.” She waved her hand back and forth. “M’ gonna take that one.” She pointed behind her. “So you guys...you guys can fight about th’ other one. M’ goin’ to sleep.”

“‘Kay, g’night Mabes.”

She gave a sleepy wave to her brother before dragging her two suitcases down the hall with a messenger bag slung over her shoulder.

 _I call the bedroom,_ Dipper thought, turning and heading for it. _You can sleep on the couch._

 _Fine,_ Bill thought resignedly. _But keep my stuff in your room._

 _Fine,_ Dipper echoed, and dragged the rest of the stuff with him down the hall.

He had gotten the better end of the stick, as this bedroom was the master bedroom, a huge king bed and a big TV and some high quality furniture that Dipper wouldn’t appreciate until the next morning when he could see it in a better light. He kicked the door closed with his foot and quite literally fell into bed. Once again, it took only a minute for sleep to claim him, and, due to either his own good luck or Bill's assistance, the dreadful black hands left him alone.

 

Dipper woke up rather unceremoniously with his face smashed into one of the fluffy down pillows and a bad crick in his neck.

He struggled to sit up, rubbing the back of his neck and grimacing. Checking the clock on the bedside table, he saw that it was 11:13, and decided with some reluctance to venture out into the kitchen.

Now that it was morning and he was actually coherent, he was able to take note of the layout of the house. The master bedroom and its bathroom was at one end of the house, and the other bedroom was at the other end. They met in the middle, where the kitchen was partially closed off from the dining room and the lounge, and in the dining room there was a pair of screen doors that opened to the outside deck, where the rim of a hot tub was visible. The foyer was attached to a corner of the lounge.

He spotted Mabel at the table in the dining room eating cereal out of a bag. “Is that from the car?” he asked.

She nodded, her mouth full. When she swallowed, she gestured at the couch and said in a whisper, “Keep your voice down, he’s still asleep.”

Dipper glanced over at the large, cushy couch and resisted the urge to laugh. Bill was completely splayed out, one arm over the arm of the couch and the other draped off the side, his legs at weird angles, his head down into the crook of the cushion.

“Is he even alive? I don’t think he’s breathing.”

Bill shifted and muttered something that sounded like “No backing out, Nixon,” then twisted around and nearly fell onto the floor.

“There’s coffee beans in the pantry if you wanna make some,” said Mabel, pointing into the kitchen.

“Cool, I’ll do that.”

By the time Dipper had made coffee and come back into the dining room, Bill was awake, rubbing his head and sitting partially upright on the couch. The permanent bags under his eyes were more pronounced than usual, and his yellow eyes stood out against the purple.

 _You alright?_ Dipper asked as he sat down. _You look tired._

 _Bad dreams. They kept waking me up._ A series of images flashed through the headspace. Lots of men in weird clothing ran through them, talking and shouting and holding weapons. One woman was the most popular, her tall stature and odd orange eyes a continual focus. She drew a sword and lunged forward, laughing, her teeth as sharp and brilliant as a shark’s.

_Who the hell is that?_

_A demon._

Dipper stared at Bill. _Wait, was that from France? You were killed by another demon in France?_

Bill rolled his eyes. The remote jumped into his hand and he turned the TV on. _I don’t talk about it. I haven’t thought about it in a long time. I guess being human stirs old memories._ “What’re we doing today?” he said out loud, crossing one leg over the other. The memories were shoved out of the headspace.

Mabel brightened up. “Oh, okay, I was thinking we could head into town and walk around a bit and get some lunch, and then when it warms up more in the afternoon we can go to the beach, and then we can go back into town and get dinner, and then…and then I dunno, maybe we can have a bonfire or somethin’! Maybe there’s a party we can go to...I really doubt Newport has much of a club scene, but who knows -”

“What about, like, the whole reason we came here?” Dipper said pointedly, glancing over at her.

She scoffed dramatically, falling forward with her elbows on the table. “We can do that _tomorrow,_ today is sightseeing day! We haven’t been here since we were 14! That was literally eight years ago.” She frowned. “Eight years ago. Wow, Dip, we’re _old.”_

“Yep.”

 _Any more dreams?_ Bill asked, not looking away from the television.

_Actually, no, I guess those barriers stayed up._

_They're temporary, so they're probably gone now._

_What exactly did they do?_

_Sealed off your brain from external interference. Excepting mine, obviously. Can't have anybody messing with you except for me._

_Uh, right._ Dipper gave Bill a suspicious look that he didn't return.

Mabel rolled up the bag of cereal and clapped her hands together. “Okay, boys, let’s head out!”

She was met with a chorus of groaning and complaining.

“Okay, _fine,”_ she huffed. “You have 30 minutes to get ready to go! Chop chop! I’m lookin’ at you, legs!” These words were directed at Bill as she trotted down the hall to her bathroom.

Bill stared after her, baffled. “Did she just call me _legs?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **last edited: 6.27.17**


	10. Chapter Nine - Pt 2

As it turned out, it took an hour for everybody to get presentable enough to leave the house. They decided to walk into town as opposed to driving, as they knew that parking would be hell. It was about a 20 minute walk, starting on a road right next to the beach and then crossing into the more populated area, with a pleasant scenic view of the beach and some other houses.

Mabel had pulled up a map on her phone. “Sooo, lunch? What’re we thinking?”

Dipper shrugged. “I don’t care.”

“Well, _that’s_ really helpful.” Mabel slugged her brother in the shoulder and he made a disgruntled noise. “Bill, what d’you want?”

He frowned. “Y’know, I’ve been craving traditional French dishes for like a week now, I think I’m on a nostalgia kick. Where can we get _gigot a la cuillère?_ Maybe with some _canelés de bordeaux -”_

“Do you not realize how douchey you sound right now?” Dipper interrupted, grinning. “Just say it in English.”

Bill gave him an affronted look. “Wow, rude.”

Dipper gestured at him. “You even _look_ douchey, what the hell are you wearing??”

Bill glanced down at himself; he was wearing a pale gray blazer with a striped black-and-white shirt and salmon-colored shorts.

He gave Dipper a disdainful look. “It’s called _fashion,_ look it up. 'Course, I expect nothing less from someone who dresses like... _that,"_ he said, gesturing at Dipper's hoodie, t-shirt, and cargo shorts. Dipper rolled his eyes in response; he had been doing that way too much lately.

Mabel was still looking at her phone. “We could do French for dinner - ooh, _seafood,_ duh, Mabel.” She smacked herself in the forehead. “We’re literally at the beach, I’m so dumb today, let’s get some fish n’ chips!” She tugged at the sleeve of Dipper’s hoodie. “Come on, there’s a place a few streets down with good reviews.”

Outwardly, lunch was fun, Mabel chattering about Newport and the beach and other random things with Dipper occasionally joining in to add something or correct her. Bill humored her and nodded along to the anecdotes even as Dipper thought long and hard about the psychic guy and the tattoo, filling up the headspace. His thoughts whirled in circles and faded like smoke and solidified again, too fast and too vague to make sense.

 _Can you put a lid on it for, like, 20 minutes?_ Bill asked. The headspace twitched with irritation. _You’re just thinking the same things over and over again, it’s really annoying._

 _I can’t help it, that’s just how my brain works._ Dipper attempted to shut a metaphorical door on everything revolving around the psychic, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. _It’s all I can think about._

_Why’re you so nervous?_

Dipper shifted in the booth. _I dunno. I think those nightmares shook me up. Are you not nervous?_

_Why should I be nervous? If worst comes to worst, we can knock him around a little, just loosen him up._

Dipper winced at what Bill considered to be “knocking someone around a little.” _You can’t do that, that would probably kill him. ‘Dunno how much you know about the human body, but organs need to stay_ inside _the body_. _And so do bones,_ he added at another gruesome image.

 _You really are_ such _a buzzkill._

 _Well, my apologies for not letting you fucking_ murder _somebody._

 _Apology accepted._ Bill grinned slightly, his eyes on the table. _But seriously, there’s nothing to worry about. If anything dangerous happens, I won’t let anybody touch you._

Dipper shuddered; if the words were supposed to sound comforting, they were anything but, and the headspace had just flickered a familiar shade of red. _Thanks, I guess. I can do some magic, I could probably hold my own in a fight._

_You are getting better at magic, but we haven’t practiced much offensive stuff, we can tackle more of that when we get back home._

_Yeah._ Dipper was surprised at how normal everything sounded, casually talking about magic and a demon referring to the shack as _home._

He never knew life was going to be this weird.

“You just attract weirdness,” Bill commented aloud, and Mabel glanced at him, baffled.

“Er, what?”

He shook his head. “Sorry. Mental conversation.”

Mabel propped her head up on her hand and leaned closer. “Y’know, on that topic, I kinda wanted to ask - is there a _reason_ that supernatural stuff tends to follow us around?”

Dipper noticed how Bill’s thoughts locked themselves up, only a few drifting around.

“Well, it’s partially your location. The Pacific Northwest has always been a popular source of suspicious activity, trust me, I’ve been hanging around here for a while now. It’s also because of your affinity for magic.”

Dipper gestured between him and his sister. “You mean just me, or -”

“Oh, no, both of you have a lot of magical potential,” said Bill casually, sipping at his cocktail.

Mabel gasped and brought her hands to her face, her forehead, her neck. “You mean _I_ can do all that stuff too?? Seriously??” she demanded, her whole face lit up in excitement.

“You bet! It’d take more effort, sure, but it’s possible.”

“Oh, man, you gotta teach me!” she said enthusiastically, her hands flat on the table. “I wanna, like, move things with my mind!” She wiggled her fingers. “I wonder if I could, like, _sew_ with magic?? That would be _amazing,_ I could make so much stuff!”

Bill was a bit bemused by her zeal. “That’s - it’s possible, yeah,” he repeated.

Mabel, starry-eyed, stared out the window at the ocean. “That’s awesome.”

 _You’re telling the truth?_ Dipper asked, a little surprised.

_‘Course. You’re identical twins, after all. You have more, but your sister has a good amount, enough to eventually become proficient._

_Wow._ Behind the onslaught of new information, something blue crawled along the headspace floor, desaturated and prickly.

Bill’s smile twitched. _Look at you, you’re already nervous that she’s going to be better than you?_

 _What?_ Dipper quickly looked away, focused his gaze on a rather pretty woman sitting at the bar, her curly blonde hair bouncing as she laughed at another woman. _That’s not -_

 _You can’t lie to me, kid, I see all of this. You’re_ that _insecure of your own abilities that you’re jealous of your sister before she’s even tried to use magic? That’s pretty lowbrow._

_That’s - !_

_You’re so selfish, Pine Tree, your mind’s already stuffed full of knowledge and talents, you’re brilliant at math and you were at the top of your class all throughout high school and college and you can beat anyone at chess and you’re_ still _jealous of her?_

Shame sat heavily in the hollows of Dipper’s chest and it made his ribs ache; it stung at the base of his neck and inside his throat, he felt it in his forehead and in his nose. _Shut the fuck up, none of that is true,_ he snapped, but it was, he knew it was. He had struggled with jealousy towards his sister since he was a child. She had always seemed  _better_ than him.

The whole room seemed darker now, the chatter of the patrons garbled and muted. The cheerful way Mabel hummed some old pop song and doodled on her napkin with a pen was fucking _painful._

Bill laughed mockingly, and it, too, went straight to his bones. _It’s really tragic, honestly. She’s jealous of you because you’re so_ smart _and_ talented _and you can do_ everything, you _won all the scholarships and_ you _got the good grades. Meanwhile you’re jealous of_ her _because she was always the one with_ friends, _she got invited to parties, she went places on the weekends, always texting or talking to people. She was always able to make them laugh, make them smile, when all you could do was be awkward and, occasionally, impress them._

Dipper couldn’t say anything, his hands clenched into tight fists underneath the table.

 _And you try so hard not to let that resentment grow because she couldn’t_ possibly _be feeling the same way, could she? After all, she’s a much better person than you, isn’t she? Always doing nice things for others and genuinely caring about them and being social and being_ good _at being social, and you always asked yourself, ‘why can’t I be more like her? She can’t possibly feel this kind of jealousy.’_

Bill tutted. _And you started to_ resent _her because you weren’t like her! It doesn’t matter that you’re a brilliant thinker and extremely intelligent, it doesn’t matter that you’re the one doing magic_ now, _none of your achievements matter! No, the only thing that matters is that there’s a possibility that she could become just as good as you at something, and that could tip the scales in her favor, and you’ll feel mediocre, stupid, useless, all because of her, again._

Dipper stood up abruptly. “Need some air,” he said brusquely to a confused Mabel before hurrying outside. It was windy and cool, the chill of the morning not yet gone, and he stuck his hands in the pockets of his hoodie.

His eyes stung and he _hated it,_ hated every millimeter of skin on his face for betraying his emotions to the elements. People passed and he swore they stared at him, swore that they knew everything, that they could see through him and see the guilt eating away at him.

It hadn’t been that bad lately - the only thing he’d been jealous of Mabel for was _not_ being symbiotically bound to a demon - but it had been really bad in high school, and it had had ups and downs in college, depending on what was going on in their lives. Whether it was in regards to relationships, friendships, general social groups and habits, or talent, Dipper's jealousy would raise its ugly head and taunt him, berate him for not being as good as her.

But of course Bill could see it no matter how deep it was buried, he could see everything, every dark emotion and every pang of jealousy that Dipper so detested and pushed away. His presence was casual, like he hadn’t just brutally dissected some of Dipper’s subconscious, drifting around nonchalantly.

 _We’re gonna leave, are you done?_ he asked.

_Yeah._

_Your sister wants to head down to the beach._

_Okay._

There was a few seconds’ pause.

_Don’t tell me I’ve upset you._

Dipper exhaled loudly.  _Just don't say that stuff. I - I know about it. I_ know  _how I feel, I don't need you to shove it in my face. You think I haven't hated myself for all my jealousy issues?  I've been worried about that stuff ever since I was a kid. It's - it's always been a problem._

_I know that too._

_Then why bother to even say it??_

Bill gave a mental shrug.  _It's fun to see how you react to being told about your own problems._

With a cold shiver, Dipper was reminded of Bill's  _true self_ again, the demon inside of his innocuous human body that picked his mind apart for  _laughs,_ the chaotic personality who so loved to destroy, to shatter. It contrasted so greatly with Bill's human body - his hair, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners, his silly laugh, his  _body -_ that they seemed like two separate beings. 

But Bill's human image was just that - an image. Something he created with Dipper's help to give him a physical form that was pleasing to the general populace, pleasing to  _Dipper,_ much to his chagrin. He was still a demon through and through.

 _It’s just stupid to think so poorly of yourself when you’ve got so much to be proud of,_ Bill commented.

Dipper frowned. _Was that a compliment?_ he asked disbelievingly.

_It’s whatever you want it to be._

_What the fuck is that supposed to mean?_

_It means whatever you want it to mean._

_Jesus, you’re annoying._

The door opened and Mabel looked around for a second before spotting Dipper and trotting over. “Hey! So, beach?”

“Yeah, sounds good. Listen, Mabel -" Dipper hesitated. "Have I been...I guess  _rude_ to you lately?" Bill came out behind Mabel and beheld this exchange with interest.

Mabel frowned at her brother. "What?? No, not at all!"

"Even with this magic stuff?"

"No!"

"Have I been passive-aggressive at all?"

She sighed. " _No,_ dipshit," she said affectionately. "I promise."

"Are you sure?"

Mabel rolled her eyes and poked him in the nose, smiling. “Remember what I taught you in high school?”

Dipper huffed but recited, “Mabel Pines is always right, Mabel Pines is always right; morning, afternoon, evening, night, Mabel Pines is always right.”

“You did remember!” Mabel beamed. She pointed at Bill, who looked seconds away from laughing. “You should memorize this too, it’s very important.”

He met Dipper’s eyes. _Is your love for her stronger than your jealousy?_ he asked, raising an eyebrow, a silent challenge.

Dipper glanced back at his sister, her face flushed and her eyes bright.

 _Always,_ he thought.

 

The beach was only a short walk from the house, so they stopped there to grab towels and put their swimsuits on under their clothes before they headed down. It was finally starting to warm up, and it wasn’t a private beach, so it was moderately crowded. People of all ages played around in the surf, dogs ran through the sand and the spray, small children tottered into the water with their parents following them close behind. The trio dropped off their stuff near a cool-looking log before going closer to the water.

Mabel tested it cautiously with her toes, balancing on one foot. “It’s not too cold,” she said, and stepped in up to her ankles for a few seconds before vaulting out. _“Yikes!_ Okay, it’s kinda cold.”

“Wait, lemme test it.” Bill kicked off his shoes and walked in until the water was halfway up his calves, then beckoned to the other two. “‘Dunno what you’re complaining about, this is fine, it’s actually nice.”

Dipper took off his shoes and was barely able to put one foot in the water before leaping back. “Wow, okay, _no,_ that’s cold, and you’re weird.”

“Aw, come on, don’t be a baby, little tree!” With no warning, Bill grabbed him by the arm and pulled him further into the water.

Dipper let out a very unmanly shriek at the sudden blast of cold water. “Holy crap!” he yelped, trying to jerk away with no success.

Mabel burst into giggles and followed them. “Geez, you must be like a billion degrees!”

Bill shrugged, walking easily through the water, which almost touched the hems of his shorts. “I maintain a healthy temperature for a demon in a human body.”

“We’re gonna get our clothes wet,” Dipper pointed out, finally tugging his arm out of Bill’s grip. Water had already splashed up onto his own shorts.

“Right, these clothes can’t get wet. But other clothes can. For some reason.”

“It’s fabric stuff,” said Mabel sagely as she hurried out of the water on her tip-toes. “You might learn someday.”

She got back to their spot first and quickly shrugged out of her tank top and shorts. She wore a pink bikini underneath, dotted with little stars. She tied her hair up in a sloppy ponytail, many strands hanging loose, and turned back to the ocean, holding her hand up against where the sun hovered in the sky.

Dipper shrugged out of his shorts and pulled his shirt over his head, inwardly grimacing at how pale he was. Mabel had at least somewhat of a summer tan; he, meanwhile, looked like an uglier version of those _Twilight_ vampires. But, he thought with relief, at least he didn’t look like he did in high school. _That was like 80 times worse._

 _You didn’t look_ that _bad in high school, I mean, human males are pretty gross in general. Humans in general, even. All that sweat and such, eugh._ Bill shuddered.

Dipper snorted but didn’t look over at Bill. _So, what, even now that you_ are _a human male you still say they’re gross?_

Bill just laughed, the noises bouncing off the plush walls of the headspace and filling Dipper’s head. It was pure incredulity.  _Pine Tree, I come from_ another dimension. _You really think I can be classified as a ‘male?’ Human systems are so rigid._

_So...what are you, then?_

_Eh, I dunno the word for it in your language. But I’m not a ‘male,’ that’s for sure._

_You’re not alone there, I had some friends in college like that, so did Mabel. Actually, Mabel -_

“Come on, guys, let’s do this!” Mabel grabbed both of their wrists and pulled them along. “Maybe if we just get in really fast we won’t notice the cold.”

“It’s really not cold,” Bill said again, managing to shrug despite Mabel’s vice-like grip on his wrist.

“That’s ‘cause your body temperature is probably like...like _hell’s_ temperature,” Dipper commented, gesturing at the air with his free hand. “The _devil’s_ temperature.”

Bill just shook his head. “As per usual, you blow my mind with your quick wit.”

_Shut the fuck up._

_Harsh. Are you still angry about earlier? Fine, I’m sorry for what I said._ But Bill's apology was hardly meaningful due to the tone of his voice.

_Whatever. Just...look, saying stuff so candidly like that just makes things worse._

Mabel released them and, with a yell, threw herself into the surf. _“AAH,_ holy crap, it’s cold!” she shouted from the water, submerged from her waist down. She flapped her hands at her sides to distract herself from the cold, cringing. “Don’t do it!” she called. “Save yourselves!”

“Suicide pact!” Bill shouted in response, following her into the water. “We go down together!”

“You’re a brave soul!” Mabel cried dramatically, putting a hand over her chest and falling backwards into the water, shrieking again at the temperature.

Dipper wondered if his eyes really could get stuck if he rolled them too much.

 _You guys get along way too well,_ he remarked. _I think it’s because you’re both drama queens._

 _Shooting Star just gets me, ‘Tree._ Bill turned around and grinned lasciviously at him from a distance of about 12 feet. _But_ I’ve _got_ you, _so it all works out._

Dipper made a point to look disgusted. _Yeah, you’re creepy, and that makes no sense._

Bill just blew him a kiss and dove into the ocean, quickly disappearing in the blue-gray water.

Dipper ignored his heart’s sudden excursion into his throat and braced himself for getting into the water, walking in only a few inches at a time.

_You’re so boring, just get in! You get used to it._

_I’m not boring,_ Dipper retorted. _I’m just cautious._

_A little cold water won’t kill you. I’m gonna swim out as far as I can._

_Just remember to breathe._

_…_

_Did you forget about breathing??_

About 20 feet out, Bill’s head broke the surface of the water and he coughed violently.

_I may have forgotten about the limitations of the human body._

_Dumbass._

_You’re not even in yet!_ Still coughing, Bill made a vague "come here" gesture. _Just do it!_

 _Fine, fine!_ Dipper walked briskly through the water, then swam once it rose above his shoulders. The cold stung at first, especially at his hips, but it soon faded to very mild discomfort. The heat of the afternoon helped some, the sun beating down on the beach in the now-cloudless sky.

When he got deep enough, Dipper closed his eyes and dropped underwater. The sound of the rushing waves was swallowed up by a gentle _whoosh_ that pushed him forward, pulled him back, wrapped him in the ocean. His eyes were shut tight - he never liked having his eyes open underwater - but he felt movement next to him and knew that either Bill or Mabel had swum over to him.

 _That you?_ he asked.

_Who?_

_You’re not swimming next to me?_

_No._

_Where’s Mabel?_

_She’s with me, why?_

Dipper’s heart jumped up again, _what the hell is next to me,_ and he nearly panicked, striking out sharply with his feet and propelling himself forward. As he swam, he could feel who- or whatever it was keeping pace with him.

_Where are you? Can you see me?_

_We’re a ways out, I can’t see you. Neither can ‘Star._

_There’s - there’s something -_

Dipper twisted awkwardly and turned to the right and slammed into whatever it was - and he quickly realized it was human. Determining which human was easy once the headspace erupted into laughter.

He kicked up and broke the surface of the water, breathing heavily and swearing. “You asshole, don’t fucking do that!” he snarled, shoving Bill in the chest.

Bill just flipped backwards, avoiding Dipper’s wrath, and popped up in the same place a second later, still laughing. He poked Dipper on the nose. “I scared the _shit_ out of you, I love it! I didn’t think I could still do that!”

Dipper was mildly spooked at how delighted Bill was at this. “‘Course you can scare the shit out of me, you’re a fucking maniac!”

Bill put one hand over his heart and the other over his forehead, then pretended to swoon into the water. “Oh, _heavens_ , you _flatter_ me, little tree.”

Dipper shook his head distastefully. “You’re never gonna be a normal human.”

Bill wrinkled his nose and made a gagging noise. “Gross, who would want to? It’s weird enough that I can suddenly feel your emotions, some of which I don’t even recognize -”

“Wait, what?” Dipper asked curiously. “You don’t recognize certain emotions?”

“Well, yeah,” Bill replied, a silent _duh_ proceeding his words. “I mean, in our normal forms there’s a set amount that we can experience. As a human, I’m constantly getting bombarded by feelings I don’t understand. Like all your jealousy, for one thing, I’ve never felt anything like that before, or at least not to the extent that humans do.”

“What other emotions do you not, like, understand?”

“Well, there’s quite a few, I mean, love, for example, is something that the inhabitants of my realm don’t recognize. Love as humans perceive it, anyway. We can form strong attachments to others, but it wouldn’t be anything close to the human idea of _romantic love._ Keep paddling,” he added as Dipper started to sink, too weighed down by thought.

Dipper fixed himself. “Right. So, er, what about -”

“Hey guys!” Mabel popped up right between them and scared them apart.

 _“Whoa,_ okay, hi.” Dipper pushed some hair out of his face.

Mabel pointed at the beach with her thumb and said, “I was gonna head back to the towels n’ stuff, dry off a bit, you guys coming?”

“I’ll come,” said Dipper, not wanting to be the victim of any more surprise attacks. _I wanna know more about this._

 _If demon psychology is that fascinating to you, I can keep going._ “Yeah, me too.”

Once the group of three were further up the beach, Dipper laid face down on a towel and allowed his muscles to relax; he had been tense pretty much all afternoon.

_What exactly do you want to know about?_

_Well, I guess, uh...what other emotions do you not experience?_

_A lot. Guilt, remorse, sadness, compassion, sympathy...basically everything that ‘makes you human.’ We don’t have any of that. We kinda have our own thing going on._

_But you said you’re, like, feeling them now? Because I am?_

_Somewhat. I’ll give you a visual._

An image popped into the headspace with the two of them standing side by side.

Dipper frowned. _You’re not_ that _much taller than me._

 _Not the point. See, things that start with you go to me, and vice versa._ A bunch of arrows appeared surrounding their heads. _So your emotions go to me._ Blue arrows marked a path from Dipper’s head to Bill’s. _And some of my magic ability goes to you._ Red arrows went in the opposite direction.

_It’s a constant trade, and with every day, our similarities slightly increase. So by the time we’re both 40 -_

_Wait, what? You can_ age?

_Corporeal immortality wasn’t part of our deal, so, no, I age like you do, and I’ll die when you do._

_Wow._ Dipper had a brief, outrageous image of the two of them in 50 years, sitting on a deck and playing fucking shuffleboard.

Like a cannon, it hit him again that he was in for a _lifetime_ of this. It wasn’t just this month or this summer or this year - it was the rest of his life.

 _It’s crazy,_ he thought. _I just can’t wrap my head around it._

_It’s been a month._

_I know, but a month’s nothing. Especially to you, I mean you’re how old?_

_13.6 billion years old, give or take a couple hundred thousand._

_Fuck me, that’s like...that’s so difficult for me to understand._

Dipper jolted when Mabel poked him. “Hey, are you asleep?” she asked.

“No! Ow. No, we’re just...we’re talking.” He didn’t bother to move his head or make a gesture.

“Oh.” She sat back against the log. “What kinda stuff do you guys even talk about?”

“Right now? Demon psychology,” Bill replied, his voice slightly muffled by his arm. “Fascinating stuff, apparently.”

“It really is, though, you don’t get it, I wish I was writing this down...where’s my phone…” Dipper reached blindly for his clothes to rifle through the pockets.

“Whatever, nerds,” Mabel teased, poking Dipper a second time. “Do you have sunscreen on?”

“Uh, no,” Dipper replied, and continued grabbing for his shorts. Eventually he snagged a belt loop with his pinkie finger and was able to find his phone.

“You’re not? Ooh, you’re gonna buuurn.”

Dipper rolled his eyes at her. “Mabes, I’m sunburn free since 2013, you know that. Maybe I can break ten years.”

She scoffed. “That’s only because you never go outside! If you lay out here, you’re gonna burn.”

“Sunscreen’s gross. I accept the consequences of my actions.” Dipper pulled up the notes app and hastily typed out some of what Bill had told him. “I’m totally putting this in one of the journals.”

“Do whatever you want, it’s not like any of that information gives away our weaknesses,” said Bill with a yawn.

Mabel stretched and cracked her shoulders. “‘Kay, I think I’m gonna get back in the water. I’ll come back in a few.” She got up, her feet light on the sand, and trotted off.

 _Y’know, I’m curious,_ Bill mused. _You know how you were playing scenes of TV shows in the headspace?_

_Yeah…_

_Do you think we could watch entire movies?_

_I dunno, I think I would have to have the whole thing memorized. I can only think of one or two movies like that._

_What are they?_

_The Simpsons Movie and, thanks to three different roommates, the first Shrek._

_Y’know, I’ve met Matt Groening. Pretty nice guy, didn’t think I’d get anything out of him. But I was asking because I’m bored._

_You can go up to the house,_ Dipper pointed out.

Bill grinned and shifted, resting his head on his folded arms. _But then who would bother you?_

Dipper gave him an annoyed look and tried to ignore the arch of his back and how his blonde hair looked in the sun because he would hate himself if he didn't _._ He turned away quickly, shuffling those thoughts away, and leaned his forehead against his arm.

_Besides, haven’t you noticed?_

_Noticed what?_

_It’s difficult for us to be too far apart from each other._

_I haven’t noticed, so maybe it’s just you,_ Dipper said bluntly.

_Maybe you’ve just been preoccupied. I’m gonna swim out as far as you can and maybe I can tell just through the headspace if it hurts or not._

_Do whatever you want._

Dipper didn’t look up when the towel rustled and he heard receding footsteps on the sand. He set his phone down and closed his eyes, listening to the roar of the ocean and the occasional squawk of a sea bird.

To his dismay, it was about six minutes later that he sensed an uncomfortable stabbing feeling in the back of his head, like he’d just shoved a needle into his skull. But that sensation lasted very briefly, and it soon became an itching feeling that crawled from the back of his head to the front. It was _craving,_ it was _I need you here,_ and it quickly became one of the parts of the soul bond that Dipper hated the most.

 _Ha! Told you,_ Bill jeered triumphantly. _I’ll come back, I feel it too._

_How far out are you??_

_‘Dunno. I can’t see you, though._

_Just be careful of the riptide._

_Yeah, yeah, I think ‘Star’s yelling at me._

_So, what, we can never be more than like 50 feet from each other??_

_It’s more like 100 feet. I’ll be honest, I may have exacerbated the pain to prove my point._

Dipper scowled. _You’re a dick. Either make it stop or come back._

_I can do both._

The pain ceased in a few minutes, and a few minutes more passed before Dipper heard Bill sit down again.

“I’m here, you happy?”

“I’m _ecstatic,”_ Dipper said drolly. He had rolled over onto his back. _How much music do you have memorized?_

_A bit. You wanna hear some?_

_Yeah._

[A familiar piece](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9E6b3swbnWg) started playing. Dipper couldn’t put his finger on it, but he had heard it before.

_It’s Chopin._

_Chopin, right. You some kind of classical music buff?_

_I’ve always enjoyed it. I liked to hang out in concert halls for a while. Lots of rich people to take advantage of, lots of amateur musicians desperate for their turn in the spotlight._

Dipper wrinkled his nose. _Right._

He heard a clicking noise and opened his eyes to see Mabel’s phone in front of his face.

“AAA!” he yelped, scrambling backwards and planting his hands into the sand. “Mabel!” he complained, quickly shielding his face. “Stop taking pictures!”

“But I wanna remember this! Plus, Mom’s been bugging me for more pictures of us.” Mabel took another picture despite Dipper holding his hands in front of his face.

“At least wait until I look decent, geez.” Dipper ran his hands through his hair, which was starting to dry funny. “Just take some selfies.”

“Good idea!” Mabel sat down next to him and grinned into the camera, snapping pictures of herself.

Bill sat up too, pushing damp hair out of his face. “Can I get in on this?”

“Yeah!” Before he could actually smile or make a face, Mabel had taken a picture of him.

“Hey, c’mon, give me a minute to look decent. C’mere, Pine Tree.” Bill scooted forward and put an arm around Dipper’s shoulders.

Dipper half-heartedly shoved at him. “Dude, move.”

“No, no, that’s so _cute!”_ Mabel took more pictures. “Dip, at least try to smile.”

“I _am_ trying!” Dipper retorted. He had always hated people taking pictures of him, and this was no different, his skin prickling with discomfort.

 _Don’t worry, we look amazing._ Bill dramatically brushed hair out of his face and turned his head slightly to face Dipper, one side of his mouth quirked up in a half-smile.

Dipper just gave him a disparaging look, ignoring the sudden activity of his heart.

“Wait, wait, I wanna be in these too!” Mabel hopped over and sat between the two of them, holding the phone above them. “Smile, guys!”

“I hate everything,” Dipper mumbled.

_Oh, just smile, you’ll look at these later and laugh. Just think of something funny._

_Hmmm...oh, yeah, the time you ran screaming away from the vacuum cleaner._

Bill huffed. _I thought we agreed not to mention that._

Dipper grinned. _It was pretty hilarious though._

 _“Finally,_ you smiled!” Mabel sang, dropping her phone to tackle-hug her brother to the ground.

“Ow, Mabel! Get off!” Dipper pushed his sister away from him without much effort, as she was already reaching for her phone to look through the pictures.

“Oh my _gosh,_ we are _adorable,_ look!” She held up her phone to the boys.

"Okay, we’re pretty cute," Dipper admitted; while the pictures where Bill and Mabel actually looked photogenic as he scowled in the background were funny, the last two of him smiling with the others were pretty Facebook worthy.

“I’m gonna text these to Mom,” said Mabel, taking her phone back and tapping her thumbs rapidly on it. “I’ll tell her Bill’s a friend of ours or something. When do you guys wanna get dinner?”

“I dunno, probably around 5:30, 6, whatever,” said Dipper with a shrug. “We can hang out here for a while.”

Mabel shoved him again. “Then let’s all get back in the water! Water fight!” She dropped her phone back in her bag and scrambled to her feet. “Come on, dorks.”

The men gave each other a look before following her back out to the ocean.

 

The trio didn’t end up coming back from dinner until around ten. Mabel had dragged them around trying to find a good ice cream place and they had wandered into a free outdoor concert, so they ate ice cream and watched a cute redhead girl sing while two bearded guys played guitar and a brunette girl played piano. Dipper ordered a beer or a cocktail whenever Mabel’s back was turned, so he was pleasantly buzzed by the time they decided to go home. Bill, who had been none-too-surreptitiously drinking Dipper’s drinks all night, was also a little more exuberant than usual as they walked down the street that led to the walkway up to the house.

“And then, it was dead of summer, right? So fucking hot! But - but I had to wear this fucking waistcoat, right? I call _bullshit,_ baroque period.” Bill had been ranting about the 1600’s for the last 20 minutes, mostly the clothes. The fact that he swore like a drunken sailor was more than obvious. “So many ruffles! Nobody should be wearing that many ruffles. And the fucking pants! I can’t - I can’t believe I wore that shit for _15 years_. I’m _glad_ I got stabbed.”

Dipper tried to stop laughing but couldn’t, it was just too _ridiculous,_ as he thought for the fourth time that day. The demon who tried to ruin his life, tried to _destroy his family,_  was wearing salmon-colored shorts and yelling drunkenly into the sunset.

The headspace tilted and wobbled around, thoughts running into each other and bouncing off the walls and crashing, and the barriers that normally blocked off certain restricted areas in each others’ heads were shaking. It took more effort than usual for Dipper to hold off the thoughts he desperately needed to keep hidden.

By the time they got home and settled down, the alcohol was wearing off, and Dipper felt more like himself as he headed to bed.

_So, psychic guy tomorrow._

_Yep._

_You ready? Are you less anxious?_

_A little._

_Don’t worry, little tree. Nothing’s gonna hurt you when I’m around._

Dipper grimaced as he climbed into bed. _You have a knack for making comforting things sound weird._

Bill laughed. _Just go to sleep, tomorrow could get pretty intense._ Another one of Chopin’s nocturnes started to play in the headspace.

Dipper pulled the blankets over him and closed his eyes. _No murder._

Bill didn’t answer, but the music continued long after they both fell into sleep, and Dipper couldn't shake the feeling that Bill was somehow watching him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **last edited: 6.27.17**
> 
> [bill's dumb outfit](http://smolskey.tumblr.com/post/134449780609/skeyart-summer-douchepng-i-just-had-to-draw) because i had to draw it. also [here](http://skeyart.tumblr.com/post/129029140920/more-art-from-like-a-month-ago-college-twins) and [here](http://skeyart.tumblr.com/post/129029030405/doodle-for-my-fic-sort-of-i-guess-i-just-wanted) are some other doodles i did for this fic, jic thats interesting. the last two links go to a blog i don't use anymore btw! smolskey is the tumblr account i use.
> 
> i realize everything's been pretty domestic lately but plot stuff is kicking in next chapter. fun fact: a lot of what dipper went/goes through in dm is based on my own jealousy problems. thanks for sticking around, yall are the best!


	11. Chapter Ten

“This is the place?” All three of them looked up from Mabel’s phone to the building in front of them.

“Pretty obvious.” The building was painted a pale purple on its front and dark purple on the sides, with a large glowing sign reading _The One True Psychic - He Has The Answers!_ above the doors. Beneath the neon there was a large black hand.

“Dude’s got an ego,” Dipper commented casually despite his apprehension. “Well, let’s...let’s go.”

When they pushed through the double doors, there were a few other people sitting inside, a woman who looked a lot like Phoebe from Friends and a guy with a really long ponytail. The interior of the room was intentionally poorly lit and almost resembled a laser tag place; the only lighting was two bars of blue neon that were attached to the bottom of the wall and the top of the wall, and the floor was covered with a psychedelic patterned carpet. There were also tons of glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling, yellow and white and blue and red.

And that was just the first room. A large velvet curtain waved gently in the breeze of a fan that was in the room beyond. Soft, creepy Latin choral music played over hidden speakers.

They sat down to wait in the cushy chairs and couches. The ornate dark wood coffee table had a few magazines scattered across it; Mabel found a People and snatched it up, rifling through it until something caught her eye.

In his peripheral vision Dipper scanned the article - “Ellen and Portia in L.A.,” or something like that - but he was too anxious to do anything but stare forward, his chin in his hands, tapping his foot on the floor. The headspace was tense, a taut string on the verge of snapping.

Everyone in the room jumped when a voice boomed out, _“NEXT!”_ from behind the curtain. The woman got up and pushed her way through the heavy velvet. A beam of pale purple light appeared for a moment, then disappeared as the curtain closed again.

“This is kinda creepy,” Mabel commented quietly, looking around the room again over the magazine, her eyebrows almost comically furrowed in concentration.

She nudged Dipper with her elbow. “What’re you gonna ask him?”

He turned to her and initially didn’t register the question. A few seconds passed before he stammered, “I, er, uh.” He glanced at Bill. “What are we gonna ask him?”

“What he knows about demonic possession, human transmutation, immortal souls in mortal bodies, anything along those lines.” Bill wasn’t looking at them, but staring at the opposite wall. His eyes were disconcertingly bright in the eerie darkness of the room. “But we’re not showing him my tattoo.”

“What? Why not?” Dipper asked, mildly irritated. “Isn’t that kind of the whole point of us driving all the way out here? To find out about the tattoo?”

_We’re not telling him that I’m a demon, that could cause a whole lot of problems. For one thing, we could get thrown in a psych ward, and after what I’ve seen happening with forced institutionalization -_

_Then how’re we gonna ask about the tattoo?_

_We say that we’ve seen one. ‘Star still has that photo of it, right? So we crop out my hair and show the photo to him, we say my brother did a successful human transmutation and this happened._

_What about the soul bond thing?_

_If he doesn’t recognize it from the human transmutation thing alone, we put that in too._

_Hm. Okay. Makes sense._

“Are you guys head-talking?” Mabel asked in a near-whisper.

Dipper nodded, distracted. “Just about what we’re gonna tell him.”

In the headspace, Bill’s mind was going to some of the wildest possibilities, some kinds of alternate universes where the psychic guy attacked them, where he had animal claws and teeth, where he fought with powerful magic, where he morphed into something entirely not human -

Dipper shuddered. “Mabel, I don’t want you in there with us,” he began hesitantly, but she cut him off immediately.

“Nope, absolutely not. I know it’s you two who have the weird connection, but this is just as much your problem as it is mine!” she said firmly, keeping her voice down despite her anger. “I’m going in there with you, and I can hold my ground, geez, bro.” She turned back to the magazine. “I wish you’d have a little more faith in me,” she mumbled under her breath.

Dipper winced and had to look away from her. It wasn’t that he didn’t have faith in her, of course not, he just wanted her to be safe. But she could take care of herself, couldn’t she? She’d taken _krav maga_ classes through high school and in the last two years of college, she was probably just fine when it came to self defense, but still. Brother Protective Instinct™ was hard to shake off even when the sister had beat a 300-pound linebacker in arm-wrestling and the brother could hardly hold a cast-iron pan for more than 15 seconds.

Bill’s mouth twitched. _You feel like you need to protect her because you want to be able to show that you can._

_Thanks, Freud._

_Anything for your jealousy complexes, huh, Pine Tree? You need to dig deep for that satisfaction, the superficial strengths and weaknesses won’t help you. Whether you can protect your sister or not is only important because you’re basing your self-worth off of it. Yikes! You need help._ Bill’s knee knocked against Dipper’s and he jerked away. _And, Freud didn’t really touch on that kinda thing, F-Y-I._

 _Can you not psychoanalyze me for like fifteen minutes?_ Dipper asked wearily; there was a throbbing pain in the front of his head that was making everything much worse than it already was. _You’re the one who told me not to be nervous, you’re not helping._

_I was trying to distract you._

_Then distract me with something else._

Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata filled the headspace in response, and the tight string loosened to allow for a more relaxed energy, blue and green and pale purple.

Dipper closed his eyes and focused on the music and his own breathing, trying to regulate it. _See, this is nice. This is what works. Not being an asshole._

 _Bothering you is so much_ fun, _though. I love all the different ways I can get under your skin._

The words were fucking _intimate,_ almost lecherous in nature, much more so than they should have been. Dipper shifted uncomfortably and made a face.

It was another 20 minutes before the woman left and the booming voice called _“NEXT!”_ again. The man got up and went into the next room.

Knowing that they couldn’t be too far away from their goal, Dipper’s anxiety grew in intensity despite all he and Bill tried to do to calm it down. It roiled like a hurricane underneath the music, stubbornly resisting their efforts.

Then - Dipper’s stomach did a backflip - the man exited the curtain and the voice boomed _“NEXT!”_ once again.

When he stood up, his limbs were shaking. Mabel put an arm around him and together they walked to the curtain, Bill on Dipper’s other side.

_It’ll be fine._

_If you say so._

Mabel reached out and pushed the curtain aside and the trio walked into another dimly lit room. There was a soft, ambient hum that came from a pair of speakers in the right corner. One wall was all bookshelves, another wall all crystals and incense and herbs and other such things. In the center, a man stood above a giant glowing sphere.

“Welcome,” he greeted them, and his voice was deep and slow. “What can I do for you three today?” He gestured to the floor. “Please, sit, it’s carpet, don’t worry.”

Cautiously they sat down on the floor in front of the sphere. Mabel stared at it with glassy eyes, her legs crossed and her hands under her chin. It was transfixing; it was full of some kind of white gas or liquid that made it churn and revolve. Dipper had a small flashback to a model of the planet Jupiter he had seen when he was young that churned in a similar fashion.

In the glow of the orb, he was able to see the man’s facial features as he sat down. He had prominent cheekbones and a dark complexion, with a slight shadow of stubble around his chin and jaw and sharp, angular eyebrows. His eyes, set back in his skull, were an oddly vibrant shade of indigo. Dipper suspected color contact lenses, just to add to the aura of mystery.

When the man smiled, his teeth were almost glaringly white. “So, what services do you require?”

This calm, collected man was not at all like Dipper had expected. He thought of phrases like The One True Psychic and imagined a large, crazy-haired, boastful man with lots of theatrics and catchphrases.

He stopped himself from making a face. Maybe he was just remembering Gideon.

After Dipper fumbled with formulating his sentences for a good few seconds and produced no results, Bill ended up saying, “Well, we were looking online for a person with extensive knowledge of the supernatural, and you seem to be that person.” _Flattery never hurts,_ he thought. Dipper agreed.

The man pretended to wave it off. “I’ve just spent many years practicing my craft. So, do you want to contact somebody who’s died? Or perhaps a deity, or a spirit?” he asked, raising an arched eyebrow.

This time Dipper was able to speak. “Do you know anything about immortal souls being in human - mortal - bodies?”

His other eyebrow joined the first. “You mean demonic possession? Do you need an exorcism?”

“No, no, I mean - human bodies created for immortal souls. Human transmutation.”

“I know of it,” the man replied carefully, a different look in his eyes. “I don’t consider myself an expert on that particular topic.”

“But you know it’s possible,” Dipper prompted.

“Well, of course. Hang on.” The man got to his feet and strode over to the bookshelf. In the faint light of the sphere, his attire was visible. This, too, seemed odd for the so-called One True Psychic; he wore a black trenchcoat and black slacks, with dress shoes on his feet. He had an elegant undercut hairstyle, with the hair on the top of his head slicked back but slightly ruffled, intentionally casual. When he turned around, holding a book, his violet shirt and black waistcoat were visible. He wore a black cravat instead of a traditional tie.

_That’s weirdly formal for a guy who just pretends to talk to dead people._

_Well, he’s got style, I’ll give him that,_ Bill commented.

When the man sat back down, he opened the book to an all too familiar illustration, and Dipper couldn’t help but blurt out, “That’s the book!”

 _What the hell’re you doing??_ Bill demanded. Mabel also shot a covert exasperated look at her brother.

The man eyed him. _“The_ book? You’ve seen this before?”

Dipper cleared his throat. “I, er. I’ve heard of it. Because it - it’s the only actual written record of how to even do a human transmutation, right?” he said hurriedly.

The man laughed. “On the contrary, this is one of many copies that have been made more recently for people such as myself. So, why do you need it? Are you trying to put an immortal soul into a mortal body?” Dipper hoped he imagined the man’s eyes flickering to Bill.

“We’re not trying to, we just -”

Bill broke in. “My brother created a human,” he said bluntly. “He created a human out of the soul of something that’s not human. And now he’s shut me off, and I think something’s wrong.”

“Ah.” The man sat back and folded his legs beneath him. “Do you know what kind of immortal being - ?”

“A demon.”

The man shook his head. “Very unwise. _Very_ unwise. Only fools dabble in dealing with demons.”

 _Hear that? Fool._ “My brother’s never been very smart.”

 _Shut up._ “Well, maybe he didn’t have much of a choice,” Dipper retorted.

“Do you know the circumstances of this transmutation?” the man asked.

“It was part of a deal,” Bill said. “But I don’t know what else was exchanged.” He nodded at Mabel. “He sent us a picture of the human - or, well, not really of the human, but of something he noticed.”

Mabel dug out her phone and unlocked it, then scrolled through her photos until she found the picture they’d taken of Bill’s neck weeks ago. She had cropped it earlier in the waiting room, made sure that no blonde hair was visible, and it looked like it could be anybody’s neck when she handed her phone to the psychic.

Dipper knew he wasn’t imagining the way the man’s pupils dilated slightly, the way his nostrils flared, how his hand clenched briefly around the phone.

 _He knows something,_ said Bill.

 _Definitely._ Dipper leaned forward slightly.

“So the demon - in the mortal body - had this on the back of his neck.” It wasn’t a question.

Dipper nodded. “Do you know what it means?” he asked, trying to stay calm despite his heart knocking frantically against his chest. He tapped his index finger on his knee in anticipation.

“...no. I’m sorry, this is unfamiliar to me.” But the man was staring so intently at the image that Dipper knew he was lying.

“You don’t know anything about human transmutation giving the person a tattoo?” Dipper tried not to sound too suspicious. “Do you know what language that is?”

“No, I don’t recognize this, I’m sorry,” the man repeated. He handed the phone back to Mabel, who pocketed it as she struggled to stay impassive.

He shook his head and ran a hand through his hair, looking bewildered. “I’m so sorry, this area isn’t my forte.” He laughed and looked away in embarrassment. “I won’t charge you for that. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Yeah, one more thing, er, what do you know about soul bonds?”

The psychic looked up at Dipper. “Soul bonds? Mortal-to-immortal soul bonds? Yes, I’ve studied them before. Do you think that this person may have made one with the demon?”

“It’s possible,” said Bill, glancing at Dipper. “We’re not sure. But there’s some kind of strong connection.”

The man nodded. “Often soul bonds are seen as a last resort option if an immortal is interfering with a human’s life too much, but the very first soul bond was between a man who fell in love with an immortal woman, did you know?”

Dipper shook his head, genuinely surprised.

“Really? How’d that even happen?” Mabel asked, leaning forward.

The man sat back, relaxing, and answered, “Back when there were many different polytheistic religions, before the Abrahamic faiths became more prominent, a man fell in love with a minor goddess. Before he was born, his mother prayed to a high goddess to keep her son safe. To answer her prayers, the high goddess assigned one of her many daughters to watch over the woman’s son as he grew up.”

His voice was soft yet still demanding attention, speaking over the ambient white noise.

“It wasn’t until the son was a young man that the goddess first revealed herself to him in a dream. He was stunned by her beauty and honored that she had spent 20-odd years looking after him. She continued to visit him in dreams and, over time, they fell in love.”

“That’s adorable,” Mabel whispered.

“The couple desperately wanted to be together, but there was no possible way, as she was immortal and he was not. Together with the help of the higher gods and goddesses of that particular faith, they developed a ritual that would bind their souls together for the rest of the man’s life, after which he would join her in her spirit realm so that they could truly be together forever.”

Dipper’s jaw dropped. “Wait - wait wait wait. So when he died, he like - ?” He made a vague swirling hand gesture. “With her? In a different _dimension?”_ Mabel whistled quietly.

The psychic nodded. “Yes, his soul joined hers. With other soul bonds, too, the mortals ascended to their immortal’s realm after their death in this world. So the man, after he died, lived with her in a - we’ll call it a ‘pocket’ dimension, an area set aside for a single group inside a larger universe.”

He sighed and ran his hand through his hair again. “So I hope your - brother, right? - didn’t make a soul bond between him and this demon-human he created, as that would mean his soul might have to go to a _demon_ realm after he died, which, depending on the type of demon, could go from _bad_ to _extremely bad.”_

Dipper was frozen into silence, still gaping noiselessly at the psychic. In contrast, in the headspace, he was yelling at the top of his metaphorical lungs.

_You motherfucking asshole, you never said anything about this! That fucking ritual said some ‘until death do us part’ shit, it didn’t say I had to go somewhere with you after I died! I don’t want to go to your fucking nightmare realm!_

_Calm down,_ Bill thought with a twinge of annoyance. Aloud, he said, “I’m not sure if that’s what’s going on between them, but hopefully we’ll be able to find out soon.” With that, he got to his feet, and Dipper shakily joined him. He stumbled and Mabel wrapped an arm around him again.

Bill extended a hand to the psychic. “Thanks for all your help.”

He shook Bill’s hand, smiling, and said, “You’re welcome. I really am sorry about the tattoo thing, I hope things work out with your brother.”

“Thank you. How much do I owe you?”

The psychic shrugged. “It was a bit of an unorthodox session...ten, I think.”

Bill took his wallet out of his back pocket, rifled for cash, then handed a ten dollar bill to the man.

Mabel gently steered Dipper towards the exit, as he was still numb from shock, but he seemed to snap out of it at the sight of the curtain.

“Wait - what’s your name?” he asked suddenly, turning around to look at the psychic again. “You - you haven’t put your name on anything.”

The psychic seemed to muse over his question. “I don’t normally tell people my name, but you’re hardly an average client…”

He cleared his throat. “Damian, Damian Blackwood. But don’t spread that around, eh?” He winked, half-smiling. “Have a good rest of your day.”

Dipper nodded numbly, his head pounding, and allowed Mabel to escort him out.

He kept his cool all the way to the car; as soon as everybody was inside and the doors were shut, the façade fell away.

“Okay, there’s a lot I want to yell about, so -” he took a deep breath “- I’ll tackle the most important thing first, _that guy knows something!”_

Mabel, who had snagged shotgun, nodded vigorously. “He recognized that tattoo, I know he did!” she exclaimed. “I could just tell by the way he was looking at it, he knows something about it but he’s not telling us, which means -”

“- it could be dangerous, or maybe it’s really important,” Dipper finished. “Whatever it means, there’s a reason he’s not saying anything, and we need to know what that reason is, and what the tattoo actually is.”

“And how do you intend to find that out?” Bill inquired drolly, his head propped up on his hand as he planted his elbow between the front seats.

Dipper gave him a disgruntled look. “I don’t know, I was kinda hoping for some _help_ on that one.”

Bill gave an exaggerated shrug and rolled his eyes. “I thought you weren’t planning on speaking to me.”

“I kind of _have_ to speak to you, considering you’re in my _head_ all the time, and now apparently I’m going to be stuck with you _in the afterlife!”_ Dipper snapped. He groaned and put his head in his hands. “Oh, God, there is no God, I’m a good person, I don’t deserve this! I didn’t even _believe_ in an afterlife, and now there _is_ an afterlife and I have to spend eternity in a _nightmare realm.”_

“Look, it’s not completely like that -”

“But it is like that!!” Dipper flung up his hands in an outraged gesture. “Mabel’s soul can go wherever th’ hell it wants to go when _she_ dies, probably meet our parents’ souls and our family and friends and they’re gonna be like, ‘Hey, Mabel! Is Dipper not dead yet?’ and she’ll have to be like ‘Oh, no, actually he bound his soul to a demon and now he has to spend all of eternity in _hell,_ because he’s a fucking idiot!’”

He glanced over at Mabel to see that she was trying to stifle giggles. “Why the hell are you _laughing_ at my suffering?” he demanded.

She pursed her lips. “You just look silly,” she managed to say before lapsing into giggles again.

Bill grabbed one of Dipper’s wildly gesticulating hands out of the air. _“Listen_ to me for one second, Pine Tree,” he said, exasperated.

“Fine,” Dipper said curtly, glaring at the demon and wrenching his hand out of his grip. "Talk.”

“That guy - Damian - made a bit of a sweeping generalization about soul bonds. It’s true that the soul of a mortal, once the mortal dies, is supposed to follow the immortal soul to wherever their home is, but it’s a _choice._ The man in the story obviously chose to follow the immortal woman to her realm because he was in love with her, but since you’re obviously adverse to the idea of spending all of eternity in _my_ realm, you’d be allowed to make the choice to send your soul elsewhere.”

“Oh. Uh. Okay.” Dipper slumped forward, starting to calm down.

Bill grinned slightly. “You’re really very theatrical when you’re stressed. And you say _I’m_ a drama queen.”

Dipper shoved him. “Shut up and help me think. How’re we gonna get information out of this guy? And _no,_ to answer your thought, we’re not _maiming_ him,” he added quickly in response to an idea that flickered through the headspace, looking mildly disgusted.

Bill scoffed and slumped forward, his chin between his arms. “You don’t like any of my ideas.”

“Because I don’t support senseless violence. It’s not the solution to everything.”

“Hm. Your human world leaders often tend to say otherwise.”

“Let’s not get political. What if we told him that you’re a demon?”

Bill shook his head. “He’d clam up even more, I’d bet you money on that.”

“Okay...Mabel, anything?”

She shrugged helplessly. “I dunno, Dip, this seems more like your game.”

“Yeah, but you’ve gotten information out of people before, right? Senior prom?” he prompted her.

Her eyes widened and she gasped. “Oh my gosh, I almost forgot about that!”

“Didn’t that end in violence?” Bill pointed out wryly.

“Yeah, but it was a last resort,” Mabel retorted. “I’m not a monster. He just refused to give me the last of what I needed.”

She looked out the window at the blue sky, puffy white clouds drifting lazily past the early afternoon sun, and mused. “Hmmm. This wouldn’t be anything like Connor Devarnan...I wish I had Brittnay Matthews on my side again for this one, she knows everything when it comes to this kinda stuff.”

Dipper laughed. “That Damian dude would take one look at Brittnay and run. She was fucking crazy.”

“I know, I loved her, whenever I was around her I felt like I was on a soap opera. Remember when she took that baseball bat and -”

“Can we get back to Damian?” Bill interrupted, giving Mabel a side look.

She shook her head rapidly, her long hair flying all over the place. “Yes! Right! Yes! Okay. Well, the first thing we did with Connor was, er, break into his house, which was not my idea, I should add,” she said hastily at the look on her brother’s face.

“You broke into his _house?_ With Brittnay Matthews??” Dipper demanded. “When was this??”

“The weekend you and Mom and Dad were out of town for that Science Bowl thing.”

“Geez. My twin sister, the criminal,” Dipper remarked, grinning at her.

“Hey, hey, we weren’t criminals, we were enacting _vigilante justice,”_ Mabel countered, wagging her finger at him. “Or do you not remember what he said about her? And me, and Jennifer McMenamin, and Taylor McDevitt -”

Dipper grimaced. “Yes, I remember, and I would rather forget, because I don’t ever want to associate that term with _my sister.”_

Bill poked Dipper’s side, making him jerk violently in the opposite direction. _“Hey,_ what -”

“Let’s go back to the house, it’s hot in this car.”

“Right.” Dipper started the car and backed out of the parking space, then pulled out of the lot and onto the street.

“So, wait, that’s the plan? We break in?” Mabel asked incredulously. “It’s not like he lives there, and we can’t exactly break in while he’s there -”

“Did you see all those books? I’d bet money that there’s information about at least one of our problems in them,” said Dipper confidently. “All we gotta do is break in after dark and poke around. Er, do you remember -”

“- how to open a lock? ‘Course. And if we need to hotwire a car, I kinda remember how to do that.”

Dipper frowned. “Our family was a bad influence on us.”

“Probably. So, what time should we do this thing?” Mabel asked. She went back to her phone. “Did he list his hours on the website?...yep! What’s today, Saturday? He closes at nine.”

“So we should break in, like, after ten, probably.”

Mabel clapped her hands. “This is so _cool,_ I can’t believe we’re breaking into a _business,”_ she said excitedly. “Damn, I didn’t bring any black clothes…do you think there’ll be security cameras?”

“This’ll be a lot easier to plan out when we get home,” said Dipper.

 _You’ve been awfully quiet,_ he thought. _Do you not like the plan?_

_No, the plan’s fine, I’m just thinking._

_Well, you haven’t made fun of me in a good ten minutes, so I’m a little concerned._

_I really am just thinking. And you hardly need my help, you embarrass yourself enough as it is._

_Aaaand there it is._

 

They ordered a pizza and spent the evening working on the plan and, in Dipper’s case, worrying about it. Mabel was content to watch Netflix on her computer out in the hot tub on the deck until the time came to leave, but Dipper sat on the couch and stewed in his anxiety like only he could.

 _For the hundredth time, relax._ Bill sat down next to him and put his arm over the back of the seat. Without lifting a finger, he raised the remote and turned the TV on, then channel-surfed until he found something relatively amusing. _It’s gonna work._

_But what if it doesn’t?_

_You’re so pessimistic. How would it not work?_

_…_

_No answer?_

Dipper scowled. _Well, it could still go wrong. Maybe we get caught, or -_

_We’re not gonna get caught. Even if there’s security cameras, you know how to disable them, right?_

_Unfortunately, yeah, I learned how to do that summer after 8th grade._

_We’ll find a way to make it all work._

_Why’re you so_ optimistic? _I kinda figured you’d be telling us that we’re gonna fail._

 _Because this matters to me too. I want to find out about the tattoo just as much as you do._ Bill sighed in frustration. _Do you know how it is to be omnipotent, like a literal deity, god-like, praised by millions -_

_Get to the point, Narcissus._

_It’s annoying as all hell to not know something, especially when it’s about yourself. As if this human body couldn’t be more of a nuisance. While I can fulfill my actual duties when I sleep, I keep getting distracted by my own dreams, not to mention your dreams, which are very loud and very obnoxious, by the way._

_Hey, I don’t control them,_ Dipper retorted. _You got a problem with the way I dream, change that part of my head._

Bill raised an eyebrow at him, actually interested. _Seriously?_

Dipper grimaced and looked away. _I was joking, dumbass. Touch any essential part of my brain and I rip your arms off, I don’t give two shits about the soul bond._

 _Ooh, feisty,_ Bill teased. _You’ve been no fun lately, you’re just a big ball of nerves._

 _Well, what do you suggest?_ Dipper asked bitingly. _I can’t just make it go away._

_I helped you with your nightmares, I can help you with this._

After a few moments of consideration, Dipper intentionally and undramatically fell onto his side, the top of his head against Bill’s leg. He closed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest, letting his legs dangle off the arm of the couch, and ignored how comfortable he felt with their bodies touching.

 _Alright, lay it on me,_ he thought resignedly.

The headspace hummed as Bill set his hand on Dipper’s forehead, all greens and pale teals, and maybe another piece of music was playing underneath the buzz but their thoughts were too active to be able to tell, bouncing off the walls and bumping around and, eventually, finding peace with each other.

 

The microwave clock blinked 10:30 as the trio pulled on clothes that would function as decent disguises and tried to look as generic as possible. In their pockets was every weird little item they needed, some of which they had run out and bought earlier that day, while others had been summoned seemingly out of thin air.

Though much of Dipper’s anxiety had simply worn itself out, it poked its nose up again as they prepared to leave. _It’s gonna be fine,_ he said for his own benefit. _It’s gonna work. It’s gonna be fine._

_There’s the spirit._

“You guys ready?” Mabel asked. Her face was lit with excitement, but her voice was cautious.

Dipper managed a nod. “Yeah,” he said tersely, glancing at Bill. “Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **last edited: 3.17.16**
> 
> as always tysm for all the feedback :')


	12. Chapter Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i dared myself to finish this chapter and post it on my birthday, and i did! whoop! 6000 words in four days was an effort, but i'm pretty proud of this. my present to myself is that it's done.  
> i drew [a damian](http://smolskey.tumblr.com/post/134449299174/skeyart-a-damian-also-proof-that-all-i-can) because he's so pretty. (see the end notes for more of him!)

_“That_ went well.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m surprised none of the neighbors woke up.”

“I don’t want to talk about this!”

“I know you feel the need to prove yourself, but _really,_ there’s a time and a place -”

“Okay, it’s over, it’s done, we’re not talking about it until tomorrow morning when we can all yell at each other again!” Dipper snapped. He was practically flooring it down the empty roads, his foot pressing just a little too hard onto the gas pedal. Bill sat in the passenger seat with his feet up on the car dash.

Dipper wasn’t lost in his anger to the extent of law-breaking, so he came to an unsteady stop in front of a red light. He leaned forward and bumped his forehead against the steering wheel.

“I’m an idiot, aren’t I.”

“You shouldn’t’ve made her stay home.”

Dipper winced. “I know, _God,_ I know. I just - if something happened to her, I - I don’t know. Life wouldn’t be life anymore. And I know she’s capable of - of defending herself and all that, but - I just don’t want her in these situations.”

The light changed and the car shot forward again.

“She’s gonna be _maaaad_ at you tomorrow -”

“I know! God, I know! Just - stop talking about it! Let’s just - let’s focus on what we’re doing.” Dipper took a deep breath and exhaled. “We’re breaking into a business. We’re breaking into a building, we’re…we’re _breaking into a building_. This is the first time I’ve broken the law since -”

“Since you turned 21.”

“Yeah, and underage drinking’s hardly a crime compared to breaking and entering.” Dipper’s voice was shaking, as were his hands on the wheel. He leaned over to check the GPS. “We’re getting close. How far away should we park?”

“Not too far, but far enough that he won’t be able to follow us.” Bill looked out of the windows, squinting in the dim glow of the streetlights. “There’s a parking lot over there.”

“Do I have to pay?” Dipper slowed down to inspect the sign. “Pay to park 8 to 6, okay, I’ll park here.” He checked the GPS again and tapped at it. “Says it’ll take about six minutes to walk there.”

“We can get there in four.”

They parked the car and did a final check, hiding items in their jacket pockets and their pants pockets. Their hurried half-walk half-jog to the complex with Damian’s building was quiet as they ran over the plan in the headspace and worried and jumped to outrageous possibilities.

_Okay, I don’t know what kind of TV you’ve been watching, but he’s probably not secretly a giant squid._

_It’s possible._

_It’s also possible that I’ll wake up tomorrow morning with an extra limb, doesn’t mean it’s_ probable.

_Aren’t you the one always going off about how you should be ‘prepared for everything?’_

_I wasn’t thinking about breaking into a suspicious guy’s building looking for information about human transmutation when I said that. I mean, yes, we’re prepared, and we should be, but what would we even do if something that crazy happened,_ please _enlighten me._ Dipper gave Bill an exasperated look.

Bill shrugged. _I attack him with magic until he dies. Simple. I_ do _like it when things are unnecessarily complicated and confusing, but only when I’m_ not _involved._

_But when me and Mabel are involved you’ll be as cagey as you want._

_‘Course._

_I’m never going to get used to how annoying you are._

Bill just winked at him. Dipper made a face and pulled out his phone.

“‘S almost 11.”

“So we should be fine.”

Dipper grunted an affirmative. Bill knocked his shoulder against his. _C’mon, isn’t it exciting to break the law?_

_No...well, okay, a little bit, but this isn’t the fun kind of illegal stuff._

_What would you consider to be ‘fun illegal stuff?’_

_Hell, I dunno, once me n’ my college friends Nate and Cole and Kirby got really drunk -_

_Oh, a lot of your good stories start this way._

Dipper grinned slightly. _Yeah, my friends are weird. Anyway, so we were super wasted and we wanted to go somewhere, I don’t remember where, but one of Kirby’s friends who wasn’t completely off his face said he’d drive us, but there were like four other people in this car so I had to ride in the trunk, and I have these hazy memories of riding in the trunk of a car holding onto a bottle of flavored vodka and singing along to AC/DC, but really, I don’t remember much about that night._

_So when did you start drinking?_

_You already know._

_There’s a difference between seeing something and hearing it._

Dipper gave Bill a suspicious look. _Why do you care?_

 _Can’t I be curious about your life?_ Bill asked innocently.

_No, because you literally always have an ulterior motive._

_Tell me anyway._

_Fine, whatever. Uh, it was just at one of my roommate’s parties freshman year, I didn’t really go to any parties until college. I mean I went to one party in high school but that party sucked, it was just a bunch of rich kids grinding on each other, and -_

_And what?_

Dipper sighed loudly. _Since you’re in my head anyway and you probably already saw this, I guess it’s fine that I tell you, but Mabel can never know, got it?_

_Cross my heart._

_I had my first kiss at that party._

_Why can your sister never know about that?_

_Because, okay, first, I was seventeen -_

_You were_ seventeen?

_Yes, shut the hell up. You don’t even - you don’t even know the significance of first kisses! How the hell are you making fun of me??_

_I watch teen dramas when I’m bored._

Dipper snorted. _You’re such a fucking dweeb._ Bill rolled his eyes.

_Anyway, it’s also embarrassing because - okay, we were talking about Brittnay Matthews, a girl from high school?_

_Yeah._

_Well, she kissed me. And it would’ve been fine, I mean, she was hot, but -_ Dipper grimaced. _She kissed me because she was so drunk that she thought I was her boyfriend._

Bill clapped a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing out loud, filling the headspace with it instead. _I kind of knew that already, but holy shit, that’s just_ sad. _Your first kiss and it was just a mistake? Bet that kinda ruined things for a while, huh?_

Dipper shoved him. _Don’t be an asshole, asshole._

_So ‘Star doesn’t know?_

_No, she thinks I had my first kiss in sophomore year with this girl Tessa Ackerly. We dated for, like, a month and a half, but I was too shy to do anything. We held hands a bit, but I think I was worried the whole time that she didn’t actually like me, which wasn’t her fault, I just have lots of anxiety, but it made me not want to take any kind of initiative. I think I have problems in general with taking the initiative..._

Dipper realized that he was talking too much, _way_ too much about all this shit that he hadn’t talked about in years. The last people he had even mentioned any of this to was his ex Jade and his other sort-of ex Michael, both from the last year, and even with them he hadn’t gone into as much detail. _I had my first kiss in junior year,_ he’d told them. _Embarrassing, right?_ he’d said with a laugh, covering his embarrassment with bravado.

Jade just told him that she'd had her first kiss in freshman year with a guy who used too much tongue, and he expressed his condolences. Michael had had a similar story, where he had his first kiss with someone he didn't even like just because he wanted to kiss a guy and know what it felt like.

Neither of them had laughed like this, neither had made him feel insecure, and yet it was _now_ that he couldn’t stop talking, had to actively rein in his thoughts to keep them from babbling so much, while he was talking to the one person who could so easily tear him apart.

The headspace was almost unbearably smug, then, and Dipper wrenched himself away from it, walked about two feet away from Bill, and waited for some other, more tolerable emotion to present itself.

As it happened, apprehension flooded the headspace with its murky blue-gray color as they approached the building complex and its surrounding parking lot, streetlights overhead shining down onto the pavement and the sidewalks, effectively putting an end to the conversation. The two men swerved around the patches of light, sticking to the darkness.

The parking lot was lit rather poorly, and it wasn’t hard for them to stay in the dark, getting closer to the buildings. They ducked behind a lone car and Bill thought _, I’ll go see if there’re any security cameras. Stay here._ Dipper nodded and he left, his feet light on the ground.

When he closed his eyes and focused, he could almost see through Bill’s eyes; flashes of the empty parking lot and the buildings, moving with his movement.

 _No security cameras,_ Bill thought, almost with a reassuring tone. _That makes our job a lot easier. You can come out now, I’m near the front of the building._

Dipper hurried to join him, almost skidding to a stop. He stepped up onto the curb and looked around, making sure his hood was still pulled over head.

 _Let’s find a back door,_ he advised. As quietly and stealthily as they could, they headed around to the side of the building, close to where the purple paint abruptly ended and the pale cream color of a hardware store began. There was a metal door set in the wall with DELIVERIES ONLY in red letters on it.

 _There might be a connecting corridor or something, these complexes often have them,_ Bill thought.

_So, we break into that door?_

_Let’s make an attempt._

Dipper knelt by the door and pulled out one of their makeshift picks - they’d made attempts with a safety pin and a bobby pin - and a flathead screwdriver. He inserted the screwdriver head into the lock and fiddled with it until he was able to put the pick in.

 _I’m surprised you can remember all of this,_ Bill commented.

_I’ve had to break into things before._

_Like a house?_ Bill found the proper memory somewhere in Dipper’s subconscious.

Dipper batted it away. _Okay, that was one time, and it was only because my friend left his wallet at home and he needed me to get it for him and I couldn’t find his spare key._

_And somebody else’s dorm room?_

_Again, one time, and that guy took my 200 dollar textbook._

_You’ve got a lot of excuses,_ Bill teased. _You sure you don’t just have an affinity for crime?_

_I’m a good member of society, thank you very much._

Bill cleared his throat and fished around for a few specific memories to put on display; one of Dipper saying, _Revenge is underrated,_ then _I think it’s fine as long as you’re not stealing anything over five dollars,_ then _Lying is okay if you’re trying to save your ass or somebody else’s ass,_ then _Here, I’ll show you how to forge a signature -_

 _Okay, okay, I get it,_ Dipper huffed, irritated. _I’m a little morally ambiguous._

_That’s what makes you so much fun! And so easy to target._

_Whatever._

It took a few more minutes of delicate pushing and poking before the lock finally opened with a click. Dipper grinned triumphantly and stood up, stretching out his knees. _Alright, let’s check this out._

Inside the door was, as Bill had predicted, a hallway. It was dark and concrete, cold and a little dusty.  A door on the left was marked BLACKWOOD. To Dipper’s dismay, he had to kneel down and tackle the lock again. Bill shut the door behind them and left them in complete darkness.

_I can’t see._

_Here._ Bill flicked on the flashlight on his phone, glancing around him to check the other doors for occupants.

This door didn’t take as long to unlock, and it swung open noiselessly into a dark room. Dipper gingerly stepped inside and walked slowly and delicately into the room ahead. Bill headed in behind him and closed the door, checking to make sure it was unlocked on the inside.

Bill shined the flashlight all around the room; it wasn’t one of the ones they had seen earlier in the day. There was a desk in the corner along with a desktop computer, an armchair, a small television, and a microwave and a coffee maker on a dark wood table. Another door presumably led to the room where they had met Damian.

Dipper ignored the computer, as he was no hacker and was sure that it was password protected, but went to the drawers, pulling them out and hunting for anything that could indicate who this Damian Blackwood was.

Bill followed him and knelt to look through some filing cabinets, flipping through folders.

 _Anything?_ Dipper asked, opening yet another drawer but only finding a bunch of highlighters.

_Tax stuff, some other records, property information...his home address is probably in here somewhere._

_What’s his date of birth?_

Bill continued to rifle through papers. _April 30th, 1984. It’s only on one of these papers._

_Wait, he's 38?? He looks more like, lower-30s...maybe he just has a good skin routine or whatever._

_Yeah, weird. Hm._ Bill chewed on his lip.  _Why don't we go look through those books? I don't think there's much about_ him  _here._

“Yeah, probably not,” Dipper said aloud. “How the _hell_ did he have a copy of the book you gave me?? When did they even make copies of that?” He frowned. “I wonder if the copies have the hidden writing too, or if it was just the original…”

Bill opened the next door and they walked into the room filled with bookshelves. He held up his phone as Dipper searched through the numerous books, scanning the titles for anything that might be related to their problem.

“Check this out.” He held up a book with a black cover and gold embellishments; the front cover read _In Pursuit of Immortals._ “I wonder if you’re in here.” He opened it to a random page and flipped through it.

“No, I’ve kept a record of all the books I appear in,” said Bill dismissively. “Trust me, that’s not one of them. Not enough bloodstains.”

“Gross. ‘Demons are volatile, manipulative beings,’” Dipper read, “‘and it takes one of sound soul and sound mind to communicate effectively with one. Avoid summoning at all costs and exorcise unwanted ones as fast as possible, as the longer they are connected to the host in some form or fashion, the more the host is susceptible to corruption...’ Wow, yikes.” Dipper closed the book and put it back on the shelf. “Didn’t you say it looked kind of like a language? Look for something with linguistics.”

He spotted a book on the top shelf entitled _Languages of Magic_ and, through some effort and willpower, made it fly off the shelf and land in his arms.

He grinned. “Sweet.” But, looking through the table of contents, nothing appeared to be in relation to human transmutation.

There was a minute of silence in which the only sound was the rustling of pages. The headspace churned like a restless ocean, apprehension and some fear. Dipper’s mind flickered back to the outraged look on Mabel’s face when he had told her to stay home and he did his best to shake it off.

Then, the quietest creaking noise, and Dipper assumed that Bill had just stepped on a squeaky floorboard, but suddenly he was shoved roughly to the ground. He fell onto his back and quickly struggled into a sitting position. Indignant, he opened his mouth to demand an answer from Bill, but then _Shut up, don’t say anything._

_Is - ?_

_Someone else is here._

Bill had turned off his phone’s flashlight and the room was pitch black, fuzzy shapes barely visible in the dark, and Dipper blinked until he could make out Bill standing above him.

_What’re you -_

_Just stay back and let me handle this. You’re a bit of a liability here, Pine Tree._

_What -_

Dipper spotted feet behind the curtain and didn’t bother to defend himself, couldn’t say anything, his heart was pounding so loud he swore the room was echoing with it.

Everything was absolutely still, suspended in time. They didn’t move, the feet behind the curtain didn’t move, the world could have stopped turning, the universe could have ceased all movement. It was unnatural, and even breathing made Dipper feel queasy.

Then, movement. The curtain was pushed aside with a metallic scraping noise and feet made soft thumps on the carpeted floor. It had to be Damian. Dipper couldn’t make out his features in the dark, but it had to be him.

“Oh, it’s you,” said the figure, and it was Damian’s low purr of a voice. Somehow he could make out Bill's features in the dark. “I knew something was funny about you.”

“Did you now?” Bill’s caution slammed itself against the walls of the headspace, but his voice was as calm and amused as ever. “You seemed like an intuitive man.”

Damian laughed. “And you don’t seem like a man at all,” he countered. “You’re a demon, aren’t you?”

“Sure am,” Bill replied amiably, and Dipper was shocked at his easy admittance.

 _What the hell’re you doing?_ he demanded.

_Just trust me for once._

“Can I ask why a demon and a human are breaking into my business in the middle of the night?” Damian folded his arms. “I don’t know what your motivation is, but I don’t exactly make a lot of money.” He looked behind Bill at Dipper. “Did he rope you into this? Demons can be a terrible nuisance.” He laughed again, a short chuckle. “I would know.”

“You have information,” said Bill without further preamble. “I know you know about the tattoo.”

Damian didn’t move. “It’s your tattoo, isn’t it.”

“Yes.”

A sound like the crack of lightning whipped through the air and all of the lights in the room turned on at once, bathing it in a purple-blue glow. Damian’s eyes glowed with the same combination of colors.

 _What the hell!_ Dipper thought, dangerously close to panicking. _What’s he -_

Something was coming out of Damian’s _back,_ something pushing out of his clothes without tearing them, and then the something was many somethings and Damian stood like some kind of morbid comic book villain with his teeth bared and these creepy black _things -_

Dipper’s heart lunged into his mouth, _it’s the hands it’s the hands it’s the hands_ ran through his head as he stared in horror. The writhing black things were arms and at the ends of them were the blocky hands, ready to grab and rip and do God-knows-what and Dipper was frozen stiff, his hands digging into the carpet, the whole headspace filling up with his fear and his dreams and drowning everything else.

And Damian was furious, it was written all over his face, in the sharp contours of his cheekbones and in the way his lips curled over his shark-like teeth.

“Seems I’m not the only immortal in the room,” Bill commented with only polite surprise. “Don’t tell me you’re a demon too, I don’t feel like getting competitive.”

“I didn’t think we’d ever meet again, Bill Cipher,” Damian growled, one side of his mouth twitching into a kind of smirk. “It’s been millennia.”

“Ummm. I don’t remember you, sorry,” said Bill, shrugging and making an apologetic face. “But don’t take it personally, I’ve been _reeeally_ busy in the last couple hundred years.”

This seemed to enrage Damian further, the hands whipping about and sliding across the floor, though his expression didn't change. Dipper hugged his knees to his chest and couldn’t take his eyes off of them.

“Well, you’ve never seen me in a human body,” Damian replied, his cool voice bordering on anger. “I like yours, it suits you. You don’t look quite as ridiculous as you do in your normal form.”

Bill frowned. “Now that’s just rude, have you learned nothing from human manners? I’m sure your normal form is hardly a sight for sore eyes,” he countered.

“Mmm, I don’t know, I find my normal form to be pretty aesthetically pleasing, in a creepy sort of way,” Damian said casually. “‘Course, there wasn’t much to me - just a black foggy sphere with an eye and some teeth.”

Dipper’s fear was blown away by shock, smashing into the headspace like an oncoming train. It was all brilliant violet that left spots on his eyes. Memories of Damian’s true form surfaced from Bill’s memories and flashed through the headspace in brief succession.

“Oh, of _course,_ Damian, how could I have forgotten you?” Bill said as though he were greeting an old friend, though the headspace still reeled. “After our little _spat_ over Constantine -”

“Spat? You knew what you were doing when you claimed him, Cipher,” Damian snarled. “You _and_ your house.”

“Oh _please,_ you know as well as I do that it was agreed upon beforehand between the houses, you got Valens and I got Constantine.”

“And Valens _failed!_ He died in the battle of Adrianople and so did most of the Roman army, or have you been too busy to remember that?”

“That’s right, Valens failed, but _that’s_ why you’re so upset at me?” Bill asked disbelievingly. “That was in the fourth century, Damian, let it go.”

“I was cheated out of the victory that was _rightfully mine.”_ The hands continued to thrash around, and Dipper scooted away from them until he was backed into a corner. “But you didn’t stop with Constantine, no, you claimed Charlemagne, you claimed Joan of Arc, you worked your way up and got yourself _power_ and _cults_ while -”

“While _what,_ what happened to you, Damian? How’d you end up stuck in a human body?” Bill leaned against the shelf in mock nonchalance; Dipper could tell by the swirling mess of the headspace that, for once, the demon was _nervous._

Damian’s angry expression became a smile. “Well, I had a hand in the fall of Constantinople. In return for my assistance, I got this great immortal body. Handsome, aren't I?” He gestured at himself as the arms thrashed around him. “So I may not have your prestige or fame, but I _am_ the most powerful being in the room,” he pointed out. “Unfortunately for you.”

The hands moved at light speed, too fast for either of them to do anything, and they lashed themselves around Bill’s arms and forced him to the ground. They hit him in the stomach with such force that he coughed blood onto his jacket, they bound his legs together, one wrapped around his neck. His face was contorted with pure rage and his eyes were flickering between yellow and a scarlet red. Dipper looked on with horror and gasped as the pain hit him, too, he could feel it in his gut and in his limbs and on his throat.

Bill coughed again and blood dripped down his chin. “You _have_ gotten stronger,” he commented, his voice croaky and tight. “Humanity suits you.”

“And how long have you been human?” Damian sneered. He took a few steps closer and stared down at Bill with pure hate in his purple-blue eyes.

Bill managed a shrug. “A month, month n’ a half?”

“Why _are_ you human, anyway?” Damian asked, tilting his head to one side. “You were never a fan of humans, if I remember correctly.”

“Don’t get me wrong, the majority of them are useless, but -”

Damian jerked his head in Dipper’s direction and the boy shrank further away, his eyes trained on the black hands. “And how does _he_ play into this? I know he’s the one whose dreams I keep intercepting. I’ve been neglecting my duties far too long.”

Bill’s eyes glowed an angry red. “Stay out of his dreams, Damian,” he said, almost eerily calm.

Damian laughed derisively. “Why does it matter?...oh, you claimed him, didn’t you.”

Dipper's terror didn't stop him from registering what Damian had said. _Claim - ?_

“Of course you have to protect your human, especially from me, right? Come here, boy.”

Two black hands wrapped themselves around Dipper’s wrists and hauled him to his feet. He stumbled towards Damian with no feeling in his feet, in his hands; everything was frozen fear.

Damian was easily eight inches taller than he was, and he looked at Dipper as though he were a specimen, an exhibit. “Well, I can tell why he claimed you, you’re practically _bleeding_ magical energy,” he remarked. “Do you -?” He touched Dipper’s forehead and pushed his bangs away and Dipper heard Bill make a faint pained, furious noise. “You _do!_ _Fascinating._ You don’t see many of these.” Damian traced Dipper’s birthmark with his finger.

“Let him go, he’s got nothing to do with us, Damian.” On some level beneath his terror, Dipper was surprised that Bill was able to keep his voice even when the headspace was spilling over with hot, unadulterated wrath and something close to bloodlust.

“On the contrary, he’s got everything to do with us, considering how much potential he has,” Damian replied. To Dipper, he said, “So you created his human body? Pretty impressive.” He dropped his voice to a stage whisper. “He treats you _terribly,_ doesn’t he? He has no idea how to act with humans. I can’t imagine having to be around him all the time. It’s rough, isn’t it?” Damian asked sympathetically.

Dipper was staring at the hands on his wrists. When Damian noticed this, the hands released him. “Sorry about that. I understand that you didn’t plan on this.”

Dipper nodded, too shaken to speak.

“Cipher has a notorious history of bringing humans to terrible fates,” Damian continued, shaking his head. “Charlemagne left bloody scars all over Europe, Joan of Arc burned at the stake, Napoleon died in exile after his defeat at Waterloo, the Ottoman Empire dissolved because of him. He’s bad news, really.”

 _Is that all true?_ Dipper asked, glancing at Bill.

 _‘Course it’s true,_ he replied, frustrated. _Stall him, I can get out of this._

“And he just _toys_ with people, I’ve seen it happen over and over,” Damian said. He set a hand on Dipper’s shoulder and the headspace stung. “I’d hate for yet another innocent person to get sucked into that mess.”

Dipper looked at him cautiously. “Why’re you telling me this?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

“Well, I’ll be frank. You’d be much better off with me,” said Damian matter-of-factly. “If you’re unhappy now…”

Dipper abruptly clutched his forehead as it exploded in pain. Everything was hot and raw and it tore open the headspace, ripping through all the other thoughts and feelings, tearing through his brain and racing down his spinal cord to attack his insides. He wanted to _scream,_ he wanted to tear all of his nerves out of his body, he wanted to rip his brain out of his head, it hurt _so fucking much -_

Somewhere underneath the pain came _hold it together, hold it together._ Dipper couldn’t tell whose voice it was.

He took a long breath and let it out, trying to will the pain away even as it clawed bloody holes in the headspace. “Er, look, I’m -”

He had a flash of déjà vu as something smacked him in the chest and he fell over onto his back once again. The headspace still hurt like holy hell, like his head was stuffed with knives and needles, and it was difficult for him to open his eyes once he had closed them. He clapped his hands over his temples, which helped somewhat, but barely. After a few slow seconds, he struggled into a sitting position, his heart pounding in his ears.

He opened his eyes when he heard Damian swear loudly, heard wind and lightning and _fire,_ and saw the two demons fighting each other like wild animals, their teeth bared in feral snarls. Bill had finally broken out of Damian’s black hands, and he was now able to keep them at bay, as his hands and his lower arms were completely covered in white-hot flames. Damian had a few scorch marks on his otherwise perfect clothes and was bleeding from a cut on his forehead. Their movements were as fluid as dancing, a coordinated back-and-forth as they attacked and defended, throwing punches along with spheres of magic and streaks of lightning as the hands waved in and out. Things were smashing, furniture thrown out of the way, one window shattering.

The headspace was still roaring away, but the pain wasn’t as bad, and Dipper shakily took his hands away from his temples. He could only sit and stare dumbly at the fighting, _should I help? Do I want to help?_

Because there was truth in Damian’s words; Bill did toy with him and it was hard to live with him and he did treat him like shit sometimes. Just yesterday, all the psychoanalysis crap, all those comments on his jealousy issues. Hell, he’d been planning to do something awful before the deal was made, _not to mention he’s been fucking with me since I was twelve, and he did something to permanently traumatize Grunkle Ford -_

There was a loud crack as Damian was thrown against the wall, various magical-looking instruments falling onto the ground and breaking apart, and Dipper was shaken out of his thoughts. Damian fell to his knees, coughing blood onto the floor, but quickly scrambled back to his feet.

For a few moments the demons watched each other, knees bent and ready to jump back into action. A million possibilities flickered through the headspace.

“What _exactly_ do you want, Damian?” Bill asked, as if he were talking to a petulant child. “I’m _sorry_ for taking Constantine, and I’m _so_ sorry that you fell into obscurity, but that’s really not my fault.”

Damian laughed and wiped blood away from his nose. “You don’t remember much about my house, do you? Seems like you don’t remember much about demons at all.”

Bill shifted, backing up and standing taller, though he was still tense. “I just don’t care,” he replied tonelessly. “I have myself. I don't need anyone else."

Damian frowned dramatically. “Don’t tell me something happened between you and your house.” He cocked his head, something dawning on him. “You aren’t _estranged_ from them, are you?”

Bill bristled, his hands clenching into fists. “That’s irrelevant.”

“You _are!_ What could you _possibly_ have done to make them banish you? How did you fail _this_ time?”

“It doesn’t _matter,”_ Bill snarled. “I don’t need them. I don’t need my house, and I don’t give a shit about yours.”

“Well, since you’ve been out of the loop, I’ll deign to remind you of the _main characteristic_ of my house,” Damian said. He smiled, blood on his pointed teeth. _“Grudges,_ Cipher.”

Bill pulled a disgusted face. “Oh, of course, just my luck. And let me take a wild guess on who the victim of your grudge is - me.”

“You.” The hands flew forward, whistling through the air, and Damian punched a crackling ball of fire towards Bill, who barely managed to deflect it and was distracted from the hands. They wrapped themselves around his arms and legs and yanked him in three different directions. He let out a strangled shout of pain and collapsed onto the ground, the arms letting him fall. 

Damian casually inspected his hands and wiped some blood onto his coat. “Maybe if I defeat you, your human will come with me, hm? Much better than a dangerous sociopath -”

He was interrupted when a fireball struck him in the chest and he stumbled backward, spitting expletives. He batted it away with his bare hand and it disappeared, but then Bill was in front of him and he suffered a hard hit to the solar plexus. Dipper heard a loud _crack,_ then a _slam_ as Damian was shoved against the wall with Bill’s hand around his throat.

Damian was still smiling, blood running down the side of his mouth. “Hah! I forgot how _weird_ we can get about the humans we claim,” he commented. “You’d really do anything to keep me away from him, won’t you?”

“If you’re lucky, I’ll let you live,” Bill growled, his fingernails digging into Damian’s neck, his other hand at his side, where another fireball was forming. He was beaten and bruised, but this new threat had incensed his fury. “Touch him again and this pretty little human form goes _bye-bye.”_

“Really, now?” Four of the hands stretched out to Dipper and, once again, hauled him to his feet. This time Dipper was aware enough to struggle, straining against the blocky hands, but they were exceedingly strong. “If I take him -”

There was a painful-sounding  _crunch_ as Bill punched Damian in the nose and broke it, blood dripping out of his nostrils. In response, Damian headbutted Bill hard enough to make him stumble away, then jumped at him and knocked him to the ground.

As they hurled magic at each other at close range, spitting and snarling in pain like wildcats, Dipper spotted a flash of metal at Bill's side. 

Damian let out a strangled shout and leaned backwards, clutching his side. _“Fuck! Ah -_ damn, Cipher, didn’t anyone ever tell you not to bring a knife to a magic fight?” he said tightly. When he took his hand away, it was covered in blood.

Bill grinned sleazily from underneath him. “Rules were made to be broken, Blackwood.”

“Were they?”

Then the headspace bloomed with pain once again, though not quite as fierce, and it was the _hands_ that tore bloody lines across Bill’s shoulder and arms, and then his own hands were on fire again and he swatted the hands away as they swarmed him, slashing away at his upper body. With a furious shout, he pulled himself up and threw himself at Damian. The other demon met him and the colors and sounds of magic flashed around them once again, the carpet was scorched and stray books were falling victim to the magic flames and the room itself was trashed, great cracks in the walls where the demons had thrown each other against them.

Dipper couldn’t tell what had happened, but then Damian was on his knees, practically _screaming,_ and all the hands were a writhing mass and in the glow of a magic sphere he saw blood spreading rapidly on Bill’s shirt -

 _“Run,”_ Bill was saying, was he saying it to him, what was -

“Dipper!”

His eyes widened as he registered the use of his nickname - his nickname, not Bill’s.

Their eyes met. “Run!” Bill snarled. “Drive!”

Dipper stared at him for a second more, taking in the fury and panic in his yellow eyes, the blood that dripped off of his chin and the blood all over his hands and the bloody lines on his neck -

“Get the hell out of here, run, drive!” Bill shouted, grimacing as he clutched his side. “Just fucking _drive!”_

Dipper sprinted for the corridor, for the door that took him outside, then through the darkness of the parking lot and into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **last edited: 12.7.16**
> 
>  
> 
>  **11.5.16** [Here](http://smolskey.tumblr.com/post/145936797989/ok-i-finally-finished-the-ref-sheet-for-my) is an actual ref sheet for Damian, and [here](http://smolskey.tumblr.com/post/152131814064/a-damian-to-match-that-one-bill-thing-i-drew-a) is a more recent piece i drew of him. the ref contains some spoilers so i figured i'd stick the link down here. (i changed one thing tho, he's actually 6'5.)
> 
> smut next chapter, just a forewarning.


	13. Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry.  
>  **edited 10/10/15. please reread if you've only read the previous version, as it impacts the rest of the story!  
> **  
>  edited warnings 12/4/17.
> 
> warnings for **dubious consent,** potentially noncon, depending on how you personally define it. there's also dom/sub stuff, mind manipulation/control and emotional coercion. please, /please/ skip this chapter if any one of those things makes you uncomfortable.

Dipper sat hunched over the steering wheel, his breath still coming in short gasps, the sparks and flashes of the magic still going off behind his eyes. His fingers gripped the wheel like a lifeline, his hands trembling.

 _Drive,_ Bill had told him, and Dipper saw again the flash of red in the demon’s eyes.

 _Drive._ The word echoed in the headspace.

Dipper exhaled slowly and turned the key in the transmission, starting the car. He floored it out of the parking lot and down the street, screeching at every turn. It was almost 1 in the morning and the streets were empty, the shades were drawn, the lights were out. He was free to go 10 miles over the speed limit, determined to get as far away from Damian as possible.

As he drove, an annoying stabbing pain started in the back of his head. When he raised one hand to touch it, it became an itching sensation that crawled underneath his scalp and buried itself somewhere inside his brain.

He remembered that it was the separation pain, that it meant that he and Bill were too far apart from each other. The more he drove, the harsher the pain got, intense enough that he couldn’t even try to think about what had happened, only grit his teeth together and drive.

 _God, please,_ he found himself pleading, _get out of there, come here, this fucking hurts, come back -_

Then Bill was suddenly _there,_ sitting in the passenger seat with his hands planted on his thighs and blood on his mouth. Dipper jerked the wheel in shock and only just missed slamming the car into a traffic light stand.

“Shit!” he swore, hastily swerving back into the road. He chanced a look at Bill before turning forward. “What -”

“Just drive.” Bill coughed violently, spitting blood onto the back of his hand. Mildly nauseous, Dipper stared at the white lines of the street as Bill wiped his hand on his shirt.

“Do you need help?” Dipper asked anxiously. “What’s -”

“ _Drive,”_ Bill snarled, his voice and thoughts feral and guttural as they scraped over Dipper’s ears and mind.

Dipper shuddered and pressed down harder on the gas. It was hard enough to keep his eyes on the road not knowing what had happened after he had made his escape, but it was made even more difficult when he saw Bill’s eyes flicker to him, yellow eyes with a hint of red that seemed to expand and swallow him whole. There were lines of blood from his lip to his chin. His teeth, barely visible, still collected moonlight at their tips.

Dipper remembered to breathe and remembered to keep his foot lightly on the gas pedal, berating himself all through the process.

“Stop the car,” said Bill suddenly, harshly.

“What?? But you just said -”

“Pull over. _Now._ ”

Dipper resisted the urge to roll his eyes and slowed the car down until he could pull over to the side of the road, sliding into a crappy parking job against a curb. His whole body was echoing with his heartbeat, and it thrummed along in the headspace, too, despite it mostly being clouded by Bill’s indistinguishable whirlwind of emotion.

He put the car in park. “Okay, now w -”

- _hat the fuck,_ Dipper could only finish in the headspace because Bill had grabbed him by the neck and shoulders and kissed him, and he was frozen in place. This kiss was different, the overbearing smugness was gone and replaced with something he couldn’t name. The way Bill handled him, too, was rougher and less coordinated, _avaricious._

“Fuck,” Dipper mumbled against Bill’s mouth, his hands feebly grasping at Bill’s bloodied shirt. Some places he touched were damp with the stuff, sticky and thick and gruesome. He moved his hands awkwardly, searching for a grip or maybe to push away, he didn’t know, and the blood only smeared across the fabric.

 _How hurt are you?_ Dipper couldn’t help but ask, even with Bill’s hand holding him by the hair and his tongue down his throat.

‘ _S not all my blood._ Even Bill’s mental voice sounded shot to hell. The headspace was burning again, a familiar kind of fire that started in their heads and shot through their bloodstreams.

Dipper felt a stirring somewhere beneath his heart and he dared to lean forward, dared to dig his hands into Bill’s waist, but then Bill was growling something into his mouth and the hand in his hair was tugging too hard, it hurt too much. Like Bill had sensed this, the burning increased, hazy red smoke clouding Dipper’s mind, and suddenly it was _okay_ that it was hurting, it was _good,_ it felt _good._

This rung some alarm bell in his head and then he was pushing at Bill’s chest, forcing him away. “Don’t do that!” he spat out. There was blood on his lips, in his _mouth._ He tried to wipe it off and left blood on his jacket. “I -”

“Listen,” Bill interrupted. His jaw was set and his hands were balled into fists; he looked _murderous._ Dipper wondered just what the hell had happened, but it was a barely-there question behind the red pulsing of the headspace.

Bill exhaled with some effort. “Either you get us back to the house in ten minutes, or I fuck you in this car.”

Dipper wasn’t sure how long he sat in limbo, his hands raised as a shield, his mouth open, his heart somehow in his chest and his head at the same time, but it was enough that he couldn’t feel his fingers when he put the car back in drive to pull away from the curb. He was too numb to feel them hold the steering wheel, either; his feet, also, moved of their own accord to the gas and the break.

The headspace roared with the intensity of a wildfire, such that Dipper had to actively work to keep himself from being influenced by the emotions that screamed at him. His head stung with pain with the effort of his ignorance as he turned onto the main street. He wasn’t even paying attention to his own feelings; had he been in a better state of mind he would have recognized this accomplishment, but with the sudden deafness in his ears and panicked adrenaline in his veins, he could hardly tell right from left.

He didn’t take his eyes off the road to look at the clock on the car dash, and he didn’t trust his sense of time, so he was unaware of how many minutes he had left before - before _something,_ he didn’t trust his short-term memory, nothing seemed _real,_ nothing that had happened in the last few hours was real. It couldn’t be. They couldn’t have been attacked by a fucking demon that had a grudge against Bill, he couldn’t have nearly _killed_ them, he couldn’t have had control of the blocky black hands that plagued his nightmares -

He turned onto the street leading to the cottage, slowing down. The car headlights seemed to pick out everything in the dark, ferns and flowers and budding trees, and Dipper swore he could see individual needles on a cedar tree they drove past. His vision was weirdly focused on random things; the texture of the steering wheel, the gravel in a driveway, the wrinkles on his knuckles. He had too much _energy,_ he wanted to _run,_ he wanted to do _something,_ he _had_ to do something.

Some part of his brain jumped to life and his immediate thought was, _My body’s acting like it’s about to die._ It was gone as soon as the last vowel became silence, and Dipper returned to autopilot.

He pulled into the driveway of the beach house with his hands gripping the steering wheel like a lifeline. Turning off the car was a daring feat, and managing to open the car door and step out was even harder. When he closed the door, the accompanying sound seemed to come across a great distance. He locked the car and the slight pressure of his finger on the button echoed up and down his arm.

Looking over to the door of the house, Dipper stumbled forward and stopped. He could feel blood rushing to his head, sound and sight and touch finally righting themselves, the numbness finally gone.

The light was on. His voice was croaky when he said “Mabel -”

“She’s asleep.” Bill’s hand was on his arm and then he was pulling him to the door. Dipper tried to wrench his arm out of Bill’s grip but it was impossible, the oddly warm fingers were vice-like. He glanced down to see streaks of dried blood on Bill’s hand.

While the car ride had taken an indefinite amount of time, they were instantly at the front door, instantly inside, instantly at the door to the master bedroom and somehow Dipper wasn’t wearing his jacket or his shoes, though he had no recollection of taking them off.

Then the door was closed behind them and Dipper found himself slammed against it, Bill’s hands on his shoulders. With his heart threatening to leap out of his chest, he managed to say, “Wait, what - what happened?”

Bill’s eyes had the same intensity as before and Dipper had to look away, his gaze darting down to the large patch of blood on Bill’s shoulder.

“I got away.” The blunt words were obviously an effort. “He can’t track us.”

Some of Dipper’s tension left his body. “Thank God,” he said in almost a whisper.

“But he’ll try. There’s ways for him to find out where we are. His fucking blood feud - he won’t rest until I’m dead. That’s how demons from his house act. And y -” He stopped himself and exhaled. His arms were shaking. “He could’ve gotten _you._ ”

“Why’s -”

“Because you’re _mine,”_ Bill snarled, his fingers digging sharply into Dipper’s shoulders, but the small noise that got past Dipper’s teeth was more than pain. “He _knows_ that, and he - we don’t _do_ that, we don’t fuck with humans that’ve been claimed by other demons -”

“Wait, you-”

“But I heard you, you were a little _tempted,_ weren’t you?” Bill sneered, the animalistic look in his eyes fading somewhat, one of his hands shifting to Dipper’s neck, wrapping his fingers around his throat and pushing his thumb beneath his chin. “Want to get away from me? Want me out of your head?”

Dipper’s breath caught in his throat. “I -”

“Why, little tree? Have you forgotten the things I can _do_ to your head?”

Dipper had to bite back another betraying sound when he felt the light prodding in his temples, _how can he do that if our foreheads aren’t touching? Has our connection gotten stronger?_ He leaned into it on a reflex and it felt too good to pull away, to allow the feeling to recede, and he heard Bill huff a laugh.

“You think _Damian_ would do this for you? You think he would be this kind? He would _use_ you, he’d throw you away  like you were _nothing._ ” The pressure in Dipper’s senses increased with every word and he tried his best not to let it show on his face, tried to stay impassive despite his hands balling into tight fists against the wall and the blush rising on his cheeks.

The hand that wasn’t on his neck slid down his chest, off to his waist and onto his hip. “But I see the potential in you, I see your strength and everything that drives you. _I_ know your worth. I know _you,_ I know you like no one else does, like no one else ever will.”

Bill _twisted_ something deep in Dipper’s mind and he bit down hard on his tongue to keep from shouting out, it was _good_ but he didn’t want it, did he? Or _did_ he want it? He didn’t know anymore, all he knew was the pounding between his ears and the red hot haze of the headspace.

He took a deep, shuddering breath. "I - I never wanted this," he said shakily, _just lie just lie just lie_ , "I don't - this is wrong, just stop this, _stop it,_ this can’t be happening _now_ -"

Bill just laughed, his mouth on Dipper’s neck. "How am I supposed to believe you when I can see inside your head?" he asked softly, sliding his hand down to the rim of Dipper’s jeans. “I’ve seen your dreams, I’ve seen _so many_ of them. Do you know how many times I’ve watched myself tie your hands behind your back and fuck you into the ground?” He undid the button and fumbled for the zipper and Dipper could only fucking _whimper,_ his head was on fire and he could hardly think, could hardly process what Bill was even saying. “And you dismiss them because you think that I’m the one giving them to you? _Ha,_ not even close!”

This somewhat stirred Dipper out of the haze. “You’re - what?” he asked dumbly.

“Part of you is still convinced that the reason you dream about me is because _I’m_ the one giving you the dreams. You could _not_ be more wrong, little tree,” Bill said delightedly. “For the most part, I’m staying out of your dreams. It’s so much more fun to just see what your subconscious can come up with.” He pressed a kiss to the skin below Dipper’s ear. “And you want me to fuck you.”

“No,” was the first word, the only word that made any sense to Dipper. He took a deep breath and said, “No, I -”

Bill’s other hand was in his hair again, yanking hard, and Dipper swore at the sudden pain in his scalp. “You’re really trying to lie to me? You’re _that_ proud?” Bill asked, looking incredulous, the color of the wildfire in the headspace paling to a light orange. “Humans are _hilarious._ You’ll do anything but admit your weaknesses.” He half-smiled, his yellow eyes narrowing. “Of course, _you_ in particular are sensitive about your weaknesses, aren’t you?”

“Shut up,” Dipper snapped, his voice stronger, “just shut up!” He grabbed handfuls of Bill’s ruined shirt to shove him away, but then Bill’s hand was on the small of his back and their bodies were pressed together and fighting was the last thing on his mind. He exhaled a groan and Bill kissed him, forceful against his mouth, and he kissed back with a shameful kind of desperation, making the headspace hum.

 _You like demon psychology, right? Then let me shed some light on our little situation._ Bill shoved a knee between Dipper’s legs.  _I_ need _to be close to you, and it's not just because of the soul bond, it's because you belong to me. It's a demon thing._

 _I don't belong to anyone,_ Dipper thought valiantly, even as he clutched at Bill’s shoulders, _closer, closer,_ he could feel the need bubbling underneath his skin.

 _Ah, actually, yes, you do. I don't have the_ capacity _to explain it all to you right now, but let's just say that in immortal terms, you're mine._

 _I’m not yours,_ Dipper thought, and it was more out of _obligation_ than anything else, he fucking _hated_ how Bill’s words sent chills down his spine, _I’ll_ never _belong to you -_

"You're _really_ going to fight this, aren't you," Bill said with a sigh, pulling away just enough to speak. "So _brave.”_ He ducked his head and sunk his teeth into the crook of Dipper's neck, past skin and into muscle, as he slid his hand into Dipper’s pants.

“ _Fu-uck, ow,_ holy shit, fuck - am I _bleeding?”_ Dipper demanded, his voice cracking, his whole body shaking, he could _smell_ blood and the wound stung like hellfire but then _fuck,_ the hellfire was in the pit of his stomach and his nerves were on end and he felt _amazing_ even as blood welled at the teeth marks -

Then Bill’s nose was bumping against his and their lips brushed when Bill murmured, “Well, you tell me.” Dipper felt him smiling when he kissed him again, tasted blood in his mouth. His neck seemed to throb with pain and he raised a trembling hand to touch it; he felt hot blood on his fingertips and recoiled, wincing.

“This fucking _hurts,_ you asshole,” he managed to say, the last word cracking into a whine when Bill’s thumb pressed against his cock.

Bill laughed derisively, but it was tight, his breathing less controlled. He wrapped his hand around Dipper’s cock and Dipper stumbled against him, hissing _“Fuck”_ as his hands grabbed for a hold on Bill’s shirt. _Not pushing me away now, are you?_ Bill teased, and he sent a shockwave through the headspace.

In Dipper’s head, the pain was gone, just _gone -_ no, it was there, but it was all mashed up in an amalgam with some fucked up kind of _euphoria_ that buzzed in his head, swam around his sensitive nerves, and he wanted _more_ of it, he _needed_ it. He struggled to breathe through his nose and pushed his hips forward mindlessly, too hazy to understand his own movements, and he wished he was freaking out, but he _wasn’t._

 _You need_ _it?_ He felt Bill’s mouth on his neck again, felt his hand move. “You really are _so easy_ to mess with.” The words were pressed into the skin above an artery, the humming of Bill’s voice and the humming in the headspace and the humming of his pulse mingling together.

Dipper’s mind rambled incoherently. _I can’t believe this is happening_ now, _we have a fucking demon after us, there’s blood all over you, seriously, are you hurt?? And you have_ so _much you need to explain -_

He made a small startled noise as Bill bit at his neck again. At the same time, the prodding in his senses got stronger, blinding white light filling the headspace and sparking behind his eyelids, and he knew he said _something_ embarrassing but he couldn’t hear his own voice, all he could hear was the rhythmic pounding of the headspace as it vibrated throughout his entire body. Somewhere far away, Bill was laughing, he was laughing and then they were kissing and Dipper mumbled breathless expletives into his mouth.

At an unspoken command, Dipper reached behind him and pulled his shirt over his head, his arms shaking as he tried to stop himself, but _why do you want it to stop? Why are you even trying to fight it?_

 _Because it’s wrong,_ Dipper thought frantically, even as Bill licked a stripe of blood off his collarbone and he exhaled a soft moan, pressing a fist to his mouth.

Bill pulled his hand away and kissed him, pushing bangs out of his face, and all Dipper could do was lean into it, one of his hands around Bill’s neck and the other in his hair, he  _needed_ it and he couldn’t stop himself anymore, the haze in the headspace and the fist around his cock was too much.

Dipper wrenched himself away and said, “I need to know everything.” His voice was too weak and wavery to sound firm.

Another shock from the headspace scattered his thoughts. “Tomorrow,” Bill said, his eyes raking down Dipper’s chest. “Get on the bed.”

Dipper stumbled over to the bed with his face burning in embarrassment and sat down, bracing himself. Bill pushed him into the bed and kissed him, started poking around in his head again.

 _So, are you done trying to deny your feelings yet?_ he asked. _This is a disaster._ His hand groped inside Dipper’s pants again and laughed. _You’re already so hard, that’s_ outrageous. _You’re such a liar, you want this_ bad, _don’t you? Are you happy that all your little fantasies are finally coming to life?_ he mocked.

Dipper grimaced and didn’t answer, shame humming low beneath the heat that was consuming the headspace. He did his best not to move, not to nudge his hips up to meet Bill’s hand, not to grab at his neck or his hair -

Bill pulled away to inspect his shoulder. “Wow, I did a number on you, look at all that _blood!_ Are you _dizzy?_ Good thing you’re lying down, I guess, that’s a _mess._ ” He licked off another streak of blood and Dipper tilted his head back, his neck on display, and Bill took the opportunity to suck a very obvious maroon hickey beneath his chin.

“I _need_ to mark you, little tree,” he was murmuring. A familiar sense of possession, of _ownership_ was hovering about in the headspace. “You need to understand that you belong to me.”

“I _don’t,_ I - _ah, fuck,_ ” Dipper panted as Bill tugged his jeans down to his ankles, “you - you -”

“What _about_ me? Do you want me to fuck you?” He leaned closer and trailed his hands down Dipper’s stomach, his fingernails leaving thin red lines; Dipper’s breath seized up in response and the headspace flickered with a perverse satisfaction.

“I don’t want this,” he said shakily, mostly to convince himself, “I don’t - I  _can’t_ , I - _fuck, oh, shit,”_ his words became barely articulate gasps when Bill wrapped his hand around his cock again, twisting and stroking roughly and then the feeling was in his head, it was pressing on his nerves, it was making him arch his back and curl his toes in the sheets -

_Beg._

His heart turned over and his mouth went dry and “ _No,_ you motherfucker!” Dipper covered his eyes with the palms of his hands, nails digging into his forehead. “Get off! I’m not begging for you!” He aimed a feeble kick at Bill that missed by a mile.

Bill caught his ankle in his hand and laughed. “ _Really?_ Come on, if you’re going to pretend to fight you could at least try a little harder. You gotta really make me feel like your mind _isn’t_ screaming for me to fuck you.”

“Because of you!” Dipper retorted, keeping his hands firmly over his eyes. “You - you’re, _ah -_ you’re in my _head -”_

Bill raised an eyebrow. “So, what you’re saying is, if I _stopped_ messing with your senses _,_ everything would go away, _poof,_ no more sexual frustration.”

Dipper nodded hastily even as an alarm flared in the headspace, _it’s not all him it’s NOT all him, he’s gonna see don’t let him see,_ and he scrambled for those thoughts, spilling out like water from a broken dam, and tried to gather them together to keep them out of sight.

Too late, though, as then the headspace went blank. The red haze disappeared like it had never existed, Bill withdrew completely from Dipper’s senses, and all mental interference was gone. It was _too empty,_ then, and Dipper’s thoughts and emotions were brazenly on display, all too obvious as they betrayed him. He cringed away from them as Bill started laughing.

 _“Told’ja_ you were lying,” he said gleefully, and he pulled Dipper’s hands away from his eyes. “You _want_ this!”

 _Yes,_ “No,” Dipper mumbled defiantly, keeping his gaze down. “I -”

“Didn’t we already have this discussion? We need to be _honest_ with each other. There’s only so much influence I have, you know. This? This is _you._ ”

Dipper bit his lip and gripped the sheets and tried to force down every tiny bit of him that _begged_ for this, that had wanted it for weeks now and was saying _finally, finally._ This wasn’t Bill messing around with his senses, this was just _him,_ and that knowledge was a million times worse than anything going on in the headspace.

 _You think I can’t hear all that turmoil? I can see you fighting with yourself. What’s so bad about giving in to what you want? Your_ morals? _You’ve already been_ fantasizing _about this, that doesn’t say much about the_ strength _of your morals._

Dipper’s mind clashed with itself, arguments spinning together and bouncing off each other and exploding violently and leaving him with nothing. _I want it. I don’t. I shouldn’t. I do. I can’t, I can’t I can’t but I want it but it’s wrong but I want it._ It was mind over matter, head over heart, but his brain was giving him nothing, no matter how desperately he wracked it for some solution to this morally horrific conundrum.

He felt Bill’s teeth graze his neck and drew a deep, shuddering breath. The headspace, while not filled with the suffocating red haze from before, still tossed and turned with Bill’s emotions, all impatience and possession and desire, and it was so _tempting,_ so fucking tempting, _giving in with his hands all over you and kissing you and holding you down as he fucks you -_

Dipper let out an involuntary groan and hastily clapped his hand over his mouth, much to Bill’s amusement as he sucked another hickey into his collarbone.

“Fine. _Fine,”_ he managed to say, seconds later, his side of the headspace burning with embarrassment as his reason yelled itself hoarse at his emotions.

Bill’s side of the headspace brimmed with smug triumphance. “Fine, _what?”_

“..fuck me,” Dipper mumbled, barely distinguishable. He tried to subtly kick off his jeans to no avail.

“Ask nicely.” Bill’s hand was right there, _right fucking there_ on his hip and so close -

“Fuck me, _please,”_ Dipper said a little louder, baring his teeth in a grimace, hating the sound of the words in his voice, hating who they were _directed to._

“And what should I do about your senses?” Bill prompted, the headspace filled with his laughter. Dipper didn’t, _couldn’t_ look up but he could hear the victory in his voice.

“Just - use them, you can - you can be in my head, _please,_ I want you i - in my head,” Dipper stammered out as quickly as possible, not wanting to hear what he said, his logical brain already regretting his words and shouting at him to _shut this down, now,_ but it was too late, he _really wanted this_ and Bill knew, he knew, it couldn’t be denied anymore.

Grinning broadly, Bill tilted his head and kissed the frown off Dipper’s face. _See, honestly really_ is _the best policy, you meat sticks were onto something with that._

Throwing caution and sanity and a few other emotions to the wind, Dipper grabbed Bill by his shoulders and kissed him. The haze rose like steam off of the floor of the headspace, curling and twisting and contaminating like a disease, and he was sucked into the storm; he couldn’t fight anymore, he didn’t _want to._ He barely held back a moan when he felt Bill’s hand on his dick again, thumb sliding over the head and down, and he’d never seen hands as sexual until now, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to look at them tomorrow.

“Do you think if I fuck you hard enough you’ll understand that you belong to me?” Bill murmured into Dipper’s mouth, his movements getting faster, and Dipper gritted his teeth to keep himself quiet. “Will you tell me that you’re mine? Beg for me to use you?”

 _Shut up,_ Dipper thought, angry and embarrassed, but ridiculously fucking _turned on_ by every stupid dirty thing that Bill thought or voiced aloud.

Bill huffed a laugh, knowing this, and then shifted, getting off the bed. Dipper opened his eyes in the darkness and heard him rummaging through luggage.

_What - oh._

There was a creak as Bill sat back on the bed, then, and the sound of a tube cap. Dipper’s heart launched itself into overdrive and he tried in vain to get it to calm the fuck down, even as Bill kissed him again and the fervor in the headspace roiled away.

 _I’m going to fuck you until you scream for the whole world to hear,_ Bill thought as he continued to increase the pressure in Dipper’s nerves. He gripped Dipper’s thighs and pushed them back, his feet in the air, and pulled his boxers off of his legs.  _Until you're begging for me to fuck you harder, 'till you're struggling to breathe and the only word on your lips is 'more.'_

It was almost corny and almost cliché but fuck if Dipper wasn’t hard as hell at the thought of it. The images that flickered through the headspace were all of _him,_ and he shied away in embarrassment.

“Stop,” he mumbled, but Bill just laughed and nipped at his bottom lip, re-opening an old cut.

“What, you don’t like seeing yourself that way?” Yet more images showed up that brought gray-blue humiliation to swim around in the headspace. “My toy? My _puppet?”_ Bill squeezed the base of Dipper’s cock and he groaned softly, covering his mouth with his fist.

“If you’re gonna fuck me, just do it,” Dipper said around his hand, looking determinedly off to his left. _I didn’t sign up for you being a dick beforehand._

“So _eager.”_ Dipper inhaled sharply and bit down on his fist when a slick finger rubbed against him. “‘Need to make sure you’re _ready.”_ Bill pressed his finger inside him on the last word and Dipper choked out a moan, his hands moving to grip handfuls of the sheets, anchor him to something _real,_ this couldn’t be real, one of his fantasies couldn’t be real.

He could _hear_ the smirk on Bill’s face when he said, “Huh, easier than I expected, you do this to yourself, don’t you? What do you think about?”

Dipper’s mind was too restrained for him to try to keep Bill from looking through his head, but he still bared his teeth in embarrassment when those certain thoughts were released.

“Hm, an ex - _wow_ , you can do better - some random people - is that _me? Hah!_ You wanted _my_ fingers inside you, you want _me_ doing this to you?” Another finger slid inside him and Dipper threw back his head, gasping heavily and unwillingly. “And you tried _so hard_ to keep me from knowing that. Well, you kept up a premise for a while, you did your best. Would you still have held it all back if you knew that I wanted to fuck you?”

“Shut - _ah -_ shut the fuck up,” Dipper panted, close to delirium, his nerves were on end and everything felt amazing but it was still _wrong,_ everything Bill was saying was so _wrong._

Bill laughed, sounding almost amazed. “What, you don’t like me talking to you? Your reactions are so _great,_ though,” he teased. He crooked his fingers before pushing them in deeper. “Beg.”

“ _Please,_ ” Dipper said, more a whine than a word, “please, _please,_ I - fuck - _more, fuck, please.”_ The sound of his own voice caused shame to curl from underneath the red haze and drift about like a patch of fog, _I can’t believe this, why am I doing this, why do I want this, why -_

“See, that wasn’t so hard.” Bill pressed a third finger in and Dipper couldn’t stop the loud moan torn from the back of his throat, he wanted it he _wanted_ it _I want it I want it -_

Bill pulled his fingers out only to shove them back in and Dipper’s sound of protest cracked into a whimper, his toes curling in the air. He had never thought that this could feel ridiculously fucking _good,_ fingers inside him and fucking him open like he could never do by himself. _More,_ he thought desperately, even as the shame stung like acid.

Bill complied, his fingers moving faster and making obscene noises, causing Dipper to flinch even as he struggled to breathe. He felt harder than he’d ever been in his life and it was all because of the fucking _demon_ who knelt in front of him and mocked him and _manipulated_ him.

_What do you want? Tell me._

“Fuck me,” Dipper managed to say between gasping for air. He reached blindly for his cock, jerking himself clumsily, “fuck me, _please,_ I n - I need it, _fuck,_ please, fuck me, _shit.”_

Bill’s fingers slid out of him and he was tense with an anxious anticipation, his heart hammering away at his ribcage, shame and desire and self-hatred and hunger combining into an incomprehensible mess.

Dipper opened his eyes a fraction and saw Bill discarding his bloodied shirt and realized that while he’d been naked the whole time, Bill was still wearing all his fucking _clothes,_ and he suddenly felt uncomfortably exposed. He rolled his eyes toward the dark ceiling and waited, tried to keep his mind away from wondering about all that blood. _Tomorrow._

Then there were hands on his legs again and he grimaced, a tiny noise escaping past his lips. He heard Bill exhale harshly, hissing “ _f_ _uck”_ under his breath. Some soft _thumps_ as clothes were tossed onto the floor, creaking of the bed as Bill adjusted himself.

“No touching yourself.” Dipper winced as his hand was smacked away and he groaned in protest, but then Bill’s cock was pressed against him and he couldn’t fucking _breathe,_ the roaring of the headspace, all of their emotions, was in his blood and in his head and behind his eyes and in his throat as he gasped for air.

 _Beg,_ Bill thought again.

“I want it, _please,_ fuck me, f - fuck me, _God,_ just fuck me,” Dipper pleaded, everything felt too _good_ for him to be ashamed, he _wanted_ this and being given orders was so fucking _exhilarating_ and the headspace encouraged him on while hardly interfering because it didn’t _need_ to -

The head of Bill’s cock breached him and _fuck_ he could have come then and there, the pressure on his nerves was back with his permission and pushing and prodding and _fuck,_ he wanted it _so fucking bad_ and his mind was practically screaming it.

Bill’s grip on his thighs tightened and he pushed in further and part of Dipper’s mind wondered incredulously how fucking _big_ he was, and whether that was part of the human transmutation ritual and _did either one of us decide what his fucking dick size is because that’s fucking weird_ before his sex brain kicked back in and all he could think of was the steady burn of Bill’s cock inside him and how it shouldn’t feel so amazing, he shouldn’t want this, _he has to be making me want this,_ Dipper thought desperately, despite knowing otherwise, _he’s making me want this -_

Bill was laughing, laughing despite his position. “I’m _making_ you want this? We’ve gone over this, I’m not _making_ you want anything. _You_ want this, _you_ want a demon to fuck you.” He snapped his hips forward and bottomed out and Dipper’s moan cracked halfway through.

The few moments of stasis where they both adjusted was interrupted when Bill pulled out halfway to push himself back in. Dipper bit his tongue hard to keep from shouting and bit down harder when Bill fucked into him again, again, again.

“ _Fuck,_ you’re so tight,” Bill sighed, and Dipper internally cursed him for sounding so _normal,_ albeit a little breathless, even as his cock twitched against his stomach. “ _Amazing,_ really. Puts my last partner to shame.”

Without warning, he took hold of Dipper’s hips and pushed him over onto his side.

“Hey, what th’ hell’re y -”

“Flip over.”

Somehow still being able to move his limbs, Dipper rolled onto his stomach, then on his hand and knees, his head against the pillows. He felt more exposed than ever, wincing as Bill’s hands gripped his waist, but at the same time it sent a thrill through him that awoke in the headspace and shot down his spine, working its way into his veins.

Dipper stifled his moan with the sheets as Bill pushed into him again and fucked into him harder, rocking his hips forward and it _hurt_ it fucking hurt like hell but he _wanted_ it, every part of him begged for it, the headspace affirming it, and he shoved his ass back against Bill’s hips.

Bill laughed and _finally,_ he sounded less than normal. “Look at you, giving in to me so easily. You just want to be _loved,_ don’t you? Do you like that I’m giving you _attention?”_ His thrusts got faster, rougher, and every one of Dipper’s exhales became a short, loud moan.

“Shut - shut u - up,” Dipper panted out between his desperate little noises, he was getting fucked literally _senseless,_ the resolution of his frustration and the prodding in his nerves resulting in a lack of control. He felt like he should be _panicking_ about the loss of control, should be completely freaking out, but he _loved_ it, _he_ loved it, the feeling of not controlling himself, by being controlled, and it terrified him.

“Still don’t like me talking to you?” Bill’s hand was on his cock again and he _keened._ “Then why’re you so _hard?”_

“ _Ah,_ fuck, I - I’m - _fuck -”_ Dipper’s hands grabbed at the sheets and pulled, tearing the edges out from underneath the mattress.

Bill slowed down, his movements easier, almost lazy, and part of Dipper was grateful for the break and another part needed _more._

“If you want more, you’ll have to beg,” Bill said, his voice almost a fucking _sing-song,_ unbearably conceited. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to Dipper’s shoulder blade, then his neck just below his hair, then his spine. “I know you can beg for me, little tree.”

The use of the nickname sent a shiver down his spine and Dipper mumbled “ _p_ _lease,”_ but it didn’t sound like him, it _wasn’t_ him, it _had_ to be somebody else, “ _please,_ I want it, I want it, please, _ah,_ f - fuck me harder.” He buried his face in the sheets, he didn’t want to be him, he hated the way his voice sounded, he hated how he reacted to being told to beg, but everything felt so _good_ when he did.

Bill moved a little faster, enough for Dipper to choke out a whimper but not enough for the headspace as it roared and demanded.

_Then keep begging._

“Please, harder, harder, I want more, please, _ah, fuck,_ fuck me harder,” Dipper pleaded, gasping out the last few words as Bill nipped at the base of his neck and shoved his chest down onto the mattress.

“So obedient. I should mess with your head more often,” Bill teased, his hands back on Dipper’s hips. “Tell me that you’re mine.”

Dipper grimaced into the pillow and said nothing.

Bill sighed. “Suit yourself.” He pulled out slowly, leaving Dipper feeling horribly, painfully _empty,_ his fists clenching in response.

“Don’t -”

“Then _say it._ ” Bill grabbed a fistful of Dipper’s hair and yanked. Dipper winced and his back arched in response. “If you want me to fuck you, say it.”

Dipper couldn’t help answering, “I’m yours,” his voice completely wrecked. “I’m y - I’m yours, _please,_ just -”

Suddenly Bill was inside him and fucking him again and it was _harder_ and it was _better_ and he was crying out with every thrust, he tried to cover his mouth but he could hardly move it and he was still embarrassingly loud and Bill’s hand was still tugging at his hair and he was so fucking _hard._

“Do you mean it, though?” Bill was asking, and it seemed to come from two different places, both close and distant. “Do you understand?”

 _Not completely,_ Dipper thought dryly but honestly.

“Say it again.” Bill let go of his hair.

“I - _ah, shit,_ I’m y - _oh, fuck, ah -_ I’m yours, I’m - _fuck -_ I’m yours, _yours.”_ Dipper panted out every word and swore Bill had sped up on purpose to make it harder for him to speak.

“You’re _mine,”_ Bill growled, and his mouth was pressed into the shoulder that didn’t have dried blood on it. “You’re mine.” It thrummed throughout Dipper’s body and he breathed a quiet “ _f_ _uck”_ into the mattress.

_Are you close?_

_Yeah._ Dipper could hardly even _think_ coherently, his entire brain was a mess.

_Flip over._

Dipper obeyed. Now on his back again, he closed his eyes tight and dug his hands into the sheets. Bill shoved his legs forward and pushed into him roughly, his breathing harsh and heavy.

“Fucking _incredible,_ the way I can make you fall apart,” Bill sighed. Dipper gritted his teeth in response, his head lolling off to the right. He was so hard it _hurt_ but he never wanted it to end, never wanted the red haze of sex out of his head, never wanted Bill to leave, wanted their bodies pressed together forever -

“Tell me that you’re mine,” Bill said again, his voice tight.

“M’ yours,” Dipper mumbled breathlessly, “I’m - _ah,_ I’m yours, I’m y - yours, I -”

“Look at me when you say it.”

It terrified him, the idea of opening his eyes and seeing the reality of what was happening, he didn’t want to see it he didn’t want to know -

But then he really _did_ want to open his eyes and it wasn’t a problem and he didn’t care about it, Bill had flipped some switch in his head and he noticed this and couldn’t do anything about it and he fucking _liked_ it. He opened his eyes to see that Bill was looking at him like he fucking _owned him,_ his eyes narrowed cruelly and burning with _possession._

Bill exhaled and muttered " _s_ _hit”_ before shifting forward and planting his hands on the bed, one on either side of Dipper, fucking into him hard enough for him to throw back his head and bite his lip hard, more blood in his mouth.

“ _Say it, slut,”_ Bill snarled, his chest heaving.

“ _Ah, fuck,_ I’m yo - I’m y, _ah, fuck, fuck me,_ I’m yours,” Dipper gasped out, moaning unabashedly, the headspace and his nerves and his own loud desires combined and it didn’t _matter_ anymore, _so fucking close I’m so close -_

“You’re gonna come after I do, understand?”

Dipper nodded frantically as he struggled to breathe, Bill was going almost too fast and too hard and he felt like he could break but he fucking _loved_ it, _you can break me I want you to break me I want this I want it -_

Bill hissed out a string of profanity and slammed his hips against Dipper’s enough to make him shout as he came, the headspace was reeling, every sense maxed out, and Dipper could _feel it._

He didn’t hear himself whisper “ _k_ _iss me,”_ but then their mouths were pressed together and Bill was breathing raggedly and everything tasted faintly of blood and that was what pushed him over the edge. He came without touching himself, his hands still gripping the sheets, yet more profanity filling the headspace as it whited out once again, the haze exploding. He moaned into Bill’s mouth without knowing what he was saying, if he was saying anything at all.

The high was still burning in Dipper’s veins when Bill finally pulled out of him and rolled over to the other side of the bed. Everything was hot, everything smelled like sweat and _sex_ and it was hard to breathe and Dipper quickly became aware that there was come all over his chest that he didn’t want to wake up with the next morning.

His arm trembled, but he was able to reach over to the end table and grab a handful of tissues. With some disgust, he wiped off his chest and threw the tissues in the direction of the trash can, then managed to pull the covers over him.

To his surprise, Bill shifted closer to him, and he leaned into the sort-of embrace. The haze was finally starting to fade away, leaving him feeling more like himself the way he usually was and less like whatever he was a few minutes ago.

 _Tell me everything tomorrow,_ Dipper thought, too exhausted to say anything out loud, to say anything that actually needed to be said, considering what they’d just done.

_I will._

Dipper felt shame creeping up on him, _you just had sex with Bill, what the hell,_ but he could already feel himself slipping into sleep. _Tomorrow,_ he thought tiredly, resting his head against Bill’s neck and closing his eyes. _Just hold off until tomorrow. Face this all tomorrow._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **last edited: 10.14.16**
> 
>  
> 
> as always, thank you so much for all the feedback!!


	14. Chapter Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo! so i've been doing some editing. **if you've read chapter 12, please go back and reread the updated version (10/10/15), as i've changed it.** there was a lot about it i realized i didn't like, and this chapter'll make a lot more sense with the edited version. thanks!
> 
> this is gonna be pretty dialogue-heavy.

“So, wait, _why_ are we awake at seven in the morning?” Mabel asked, yawning loudly as she buckled her seatbelt.

“Because we have to get out of here, fast,” Dipper said bluntly, putting the car in drive and burning rubber as he pulled out of the driveway and onto the road.

“Are you gonna tell me exactly _why?”_

“I’ll explain once we get on the highway, just - oh, God, I’m tired. _Fuck._ ” Dipper rubbed his forehead with one hand and directed the wheel with the other. He felt like he’d been thrown through a meat grinder; everything hurt like hell, and having gotten only 5-ish hours of sleep didn’t help. He’d already taken two Ibuprofen pills dry and was tempted to take more.

“You want me to take over? I can drive,” Mabel offered. “We should get some coffee, do we need gas?”

Dipper checked. “Yeah, we do. Okay, keep an eye out for a station.”

The hour he had spent packing and closing up the house had kept him busy, but now that he was mostly on autopilot and his mind was free to wander, his mind had drifted to all that had happened in the last twelve hours.

Breaking and entering. Damian and his fucking _hands._ Bill and Damian fighting, Bill’s absolute _fury,_ all that blood. Then, _some_ how, for _some_ reason, sex, possibly the best he’d ever had, which didn’t really make him feel any better.

Dipper shifted his shoulder and made a face at the resulting twinge of pain. He was wearing a sweater over a button-down shirt, preventing the majority of the bitemarks and bruises on his body from being visible; there were some pretty spectacular ones on his hips and his collarbone. He had covered up the maroon hickey that stood out just underneath his chin with some makeup that he had swiped from Mabel’s bag before she packed it, and it was barely visible under a thick layer of concealer.

He bit his lip, which was starting to scab over. _Don’t think about it._ But he was thinking about it, his mind had crossed into dangerous territory, a mental minefield. He felt teeth in his shoulder and on his neck and on his back, felt lips pressed to his throat and under his ear and on his spine -

He shook his head violently, scattering the thoughts with a significant amount of effort. _Literally anything but that,_ he irritably instructed his brain. _Not now._ He swore he heard Bill laugh quietly in the back seat and he snapped a mental _shut up_ at him.

His thoughts jumped to Damian. Dipper flinched as images of the demon peppered the headspace, his glowing blue-violet eyes and the thrashing black arms and his terrible laughter, his sharp teeth, his imposing stature. The scariest thing about Damian, though, was that he was able to disarm Bill with only minimal effort on his part. Granted, after the initial assault it had become more of a fair fight, but Bill had also become incensed with fury after Damian had tried to appeal to Dipper and threatened to take him. _So if that hadn’t happened -_

“Dip, there’s cheap gas over there.”

He snapped out of his thoughts. “Where?”

Mabel pointed. “Turn here.”

“Alright.” He flipped the turn signal and pulled into the mostly empty gas station, then put the car in park and waited for an attendant.

Mabel unbuckled her seatbelt and slid out of the car holding her purse. “So, you up for some way-too-sugary gas station coffee?” She grinned toothily at him and he gave a weary smile back.

“In this moment, there’s nothing I could want more than over-sugared gas station coffee.”

Mabel made finger gun gestures at him. “I’ll mix white chocolate and caramel toffee, then. Bill, you want anything?”

“French vanilla,” he said, yawning. “ _Ooh,_ and donuts. Th’ powdered ones.”

“Cool, cool. Be back in a minute!” Mabel hurried into the convenience store.

Thankfully there was only a moment of silence before the attendant was there, a young freckled redhead. “Hi, what can I get for you?” he asked.

Dipper fished around for some cash and found he only had a 20. “Uhh, however much a 20’ll get me of regular, please.”

“Sure thing.” The attendant moved off to fill up the tank.

_You have a lot to explain,_ Dipper thought.

_Can’t this wait?_

_No. Well, some of it can wait. But I have to know this stuff now. You have to tell me what exactly a “claim” is, and - and you have to tell me why you freaked out when Damian threatened me._

_Alright, alright, fine._ Dipper heard Bill recline and roll onto his side. _Okay, it works like this. Demons see a rough outline of a person’s life before they’re born. We’re able to see if they have potential or not, be it power, magic, whatever. Charlemagne had no magic to speak of, but Joan of Arc was another story. My house - okay, quick break to explain houses._ His tone was that of a peppy professor’s. _I_ _t's really pretty simple; all demons with a certain trait belong to one house. Damian’s house is for demons that hold grudges, blood feuds. My house is for chaos demons._

_Damian isn’t a chaos demon?_ Dipper asked.

_No, but he’s not an order demon, either, it’s not necessarily a black and white system, that’d take_ forever _to explain...anyway. I’m estranged from my house because of some certain_ mistakes  _I’ve made in the last couple hundred years, and that’s all I’m saying on it._ Dipper noticed that anything under that category was firmly locked in the headspace. _Back to the point, demons of my house tend to value magic potential over power-grabbers, though I did have fun with Charlemagne and Napoleon, which segues back into claims!_

_Damian said that you claimed me._

_And I did!_ Bill replied cheerfully. _In fact, I have a claim on your whole family!_

_What??_

_Yep! You’re just the one with the most magical potential, so I’ve been keeping an eye on you in particular. A while ago, I sensed the potential in your great uncle Stanford before he was born, so, just to be safe, I claimed the next five generations of your family, give or take a few cousins._

_Okay, what exactly does it mean?_ Dipper asked cautiously.

_It just means that no other demon can come near you, touch you, threaten you, try to kill you, all that. We develop really intense connections with our humans, and it’s taboo for other demons to threaten the humans we claim._

_So that’s why you flipped your shit when Damian told me I should go with him, and whenever he touched me._

_Yeah. When the object of our claims are in danger, we kinda go batshit. Y’know, it’s like...someone trying to burn down your house, you’d freak out, and you’d do anything to make them stop._

Dipper frowned. _So, what, I’m your property?_ he asked, disbelieving.

_Pretty much._ Bill shrugged.

_That’s - wow, uh,_ no, _for one thing, I’m not property -_

_You’re right, it’s really more like you’re an_ object.

Dipper was speechless - _thoughtless,_ really. It was at that point that Mabel opened the passenger door and he jumped.

“I got coffee! And donuts! Here.” She tossed the donuts into the back seat. “Bill, you gotta sit up or you’re gonna spill this.”

“ _Ugh._ Why am I even _alive,_ ” he complained, struggling into a sitting position, and Dipper couldn’t help but laugh, as pissed off as he was.

Mabel clambered into her seat and shut the door. “I feel ya, buddy. Bro, you sure you’re good to drive?”

“I’m fine,” he insisted. He tapped the coffee cup. “This’ll kick in soon, hopefully.”

The attendant came back and Dipper handed him the money, then headed back onto the road leading to the highway.

He tried to take a sip of coffee, found it was too hot, and swore loudly as he put it back in one of the cupholders between the seats. To Bill, he thought, _I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I’m not your object._

_Look, I don’t make the rules, little tree, that’s just how it is._ Dipper bit his lip in response to the nickname. _Do you get it now when I say that you belong to me? You literally do. In terms of immortals, you really are_ my  _human, my possession. You wouldn’t want a stranger running off with your computer or your furniture or all of your money, right? So I don’t want other demons running off with_ you. _Or touching you, or even looking at you, really._

Dipper forced a neutral expression and kept driving, his hands clenched a little too hard around the steering wheel. His side of the headspace was suspiciously empty.

_What’re you hiding? Do you_ like _that you belong to someone?_ Bill teased.

_Shut up. Okay, another thing. Why the hell was your thought process like “Demon has a blood feud with me and wants to kill me, obviously the immediate course of action is to have sex,” like,_ _just, where’s the logic?_ Dipper demanded, hoping he wasn’t blushing because  _I swear to God I will declare war on my entire self._

Bill was laughing, both in the headspace and out, and he thought, _It’s hard to explain, but I guess seeing Damian threaten you set something off. I had to show you that you really are mine, that I’ll never let another demon take you from me._

Dipper shivered. _Wow, uh, alright, kinda creepy...so how long have you, uh._ The images he conjured up explained it for him.

_Wanted to fuck you?_

Now he knew he was blushing, and he really hoped Mabel wasn’t looking at him. _Er, yeah, and please make this conversation quick because we have to tell Mabel about last night, and I’m pretty sure my soul is dying._

_You’re so dramatic when you’re stressed, it’s hilarious._

_Screw you._

_Well, claims are purely object possession when we’re in our normal forms in our own dimensional plane, but they can present themselves differently if we become human, and it really isn’t up to us, it just happens. Now, I’ve claimed a lot of people, but because I’ve only been human four times -_

_Four?_

_If you cared at_ all _about my history, you would know about this._

_Don’t guilt trip me into poking through your memories._ I _know when to leave those alone._

_\- because I’ve only been human four times, this is the first time I’ve experienced this kind of, ah,_ attraction.

Dipper scowled. _Lucky me._

_Lucky you,_ Bill agreed.

“ _Guys,_ talk out loud,” Mabel complained.

Dipper shook his head. “Right, sorry. Okay, we have to tell you about last night.”

He remembered something very abruptly that he had forgotten up until that moment. “Er, when...did...you, uh, get to sleep?”

Mabel sighed loudly. “ _Well,_ I was gonna stay up until you got home and chew you out for being a douche, so I put my headphones in and played loud music for a while, but I guess I got too tired at one point and fell asleep.”

Dipper honestly couldn’t believe his luck that Mabel hadn’t heard him and Bill having sex. “You didn’t wake up at all?”

“No…”

Before she could ask any questions, Dipper jumped into it. “Okay, the reason we had to get out of here is because Damian - he’s a demon.”

Mabel’s eyes widened and her jaw dropped in shock. “No  _way!_ Are you _serious??”_

“Completely serious, he was - Bill -?”

“He was a demon I’d interacted with almost 2000 years ago. Well, not _almost_ almost, ‘nother 400 years...anyway. Apparently he’s been mad at me for a long time, mostly because he got the short end of the stick with an _exchange_ back in the fourth century. Because he’s part of a subtype that holds grudges, he’s been kinda pissed off at me ever since then, and now I guess he’s determined to kill me,” Bill said with a shrug.

“He’s _what?!_ How are you so _calm?”_ she demanded, turning in her seat to look back at him. “I’d be freaking out! I _am_ freaking out! What’re we gonna _do?”_

“Calm down, ‘Star, we’re fine for now at least,” Bill replied. “He can’t track us. But he _will_ do all in his power to find us.”

Dipper frowned and glanced in the rear view mirror at Bill, tried to ignore how he looked kinda _hot_ in his rumpled blue button-down with the sleeves rolled to his elbows and two buttons undone and his stupid unblemished white pants -

He gave himself a mental slap to the face and said, “We demon-proofed the shack a few times a while back, can we do that again?”

_You’re so transparent._ “Yeah, it’ll help, but ideally we should demon-proof the whole town - er, excepting myself, otherwise I’ll take one step anywhere close to it and wind up in a ditch 20 miles away with a wicked headache.”

_I would love for you to be in a ditch 20 miles away with a wicked headache,_ Dipper thought irritably. “That’s possible?”

“Yeah, we can fiddle with it.”

To everyone’s extreme frustration, they soon discovered that the highway was backed up. According to Mabel’s phone, it would take them at least an hour to get out of the worst of it.

“ _Man,”_ she groaned, looking out the window. “I wish we could’ve stayed longer.”

“Yeah, same. We can go to another beach, like, one without an evil demon,” Dipper offered, grinning.

“Aren’t we due to visit Mom n’ Dad?”

“Oh, that'd be nice, Piedmont’s like 20 minutes away from the beach.”

“I haven’t been to California in _forever,”_ Bill commented. “Not since you two left for college.”

“Sometimes I miss California,” said Mabel thoughtfully, sipping her coffee. “But then I remember that I can never wear poofy sweaters there because the coldest it gets is like 65 degrees.”

“I’m still wondering how you survived.” Dipper tried his coffee again and found it was no longer scalding hot.

“Somehow I managed.” Mabel adjusted her seat so it reclined all the way. “Hey, Bill, tell us a story.”

“What kind of story?”

“I dunno, what’s something fun you’ve done?”

“Lots of things. Hm. I caused the collapse of the Ottoman Empire.”

“Er, more fun than that.”

“The fall of the Han Dynasty?”

“How about an event that didn’t end in lots and lots of death?” Dipper interjected.

“Uh, I was inhabiting a guy’s body and we crashed a wall street tycoon’s party once.”

“Ooh, what happened?” Mabel asked eagerly, glancing at the back seat.

Bill clapped his hands. _"Well,_ it was the summer of 1967, I was taking a break from spying on your uncle, I mean, a guy’s gotta have a day or two off, right? So I went on the adventure of the century in good ol’ 20th century NYC.”

“This is what happens when you give him an audience,” Dipper said to Mabel, lightly punching her in the shoulder.

“Rude. Anyway, so I had this guy’s body for a few hours - wow, I have a _really_ bad memory, I have _no_ idea what his name was - and I hadn’t been to a really crazy party in a while, so I talked to some of his friends and together we slipped into this party some guy was holding at his mansion. Everyone was super wasted, so it’s not like anybody noticed or cared, we were just a couple guys in suits like everybody else. It was _great,_ we were dancing and drinking and shootin’ pool - I’m _the best_ at pool, by the way - and doing cocaine, hitting on girls, it was fun.”

Dipper shuddered. “I don’t _want_ to imagine you on cocaine.”

“Don’t be such a prude, your sister’s done cocaine -”

“ _What?”_ he demanded, turning to look at her so fast he cricked his neck. Swearing, he rubbed at it while saying, “You did _cocaine?”_

“Only a little bit!” she said feebly, looking guilty. “At that one party, the one at the end of junior year, remember?”

“Was that when you disappeared for like an hour with all those honors students, the seniors?”

“Yeah, some of them were _seriously_ rich, this one guy, Jonathan, he was _nuts,_ he literally had a suitcase full of cocaine that he got from his uncle or something, and nobody even liked him but we wanted to try it, so, y’know, we kinda sucked up to him and we all tried it. Ohh, man, did you ever meet...crap, what was his name...uh, Tristan? I don’t remember his last name.”

“Uh, maybe, what’d he look like?”

“He was tall, blonde, very effeminate -”

“Yeah, I remember him at that party, actually, kept taking his shirt off... _he_ did cocaine?”

“Oh yeah, he got _weird.”_

“But back to the point of this story, I can’t believe _you_ did cocaine! You don’t even _drink!”_ Dipper exclaimed, a little perturbed at the thought of his sister doing drugs.

She made a face. “It was _one time,_ Dip, come on. _You_ can’t talk, you literally got a tattoo when you were drunk once!”

“Wait, _what?”_ Bill leaned forward, his elbows on the space between the front seats. “Pine Tree, you have a _tattoo?”_

“Er, yeah, I do.” _You literally saw me naked and you didn’t notice?_

_I had other things on my mind._ “What is it? _Where_ is it?”

“I’m not showing you _now,_ we’re in the car.”

Bill raised an eyebrow. “Is it -”

“ _No,_ it’s not _there!_ You’re gross. It’s on my hip.”

_Wow, I_ am _surprised I didn’t see it._ “What is it?”

Dipper sighed. “It’s - it’s a pine tree.”

_Really now._

_Not because of_ you, _asshole._

“Why?” Bill asked, still looking annoyingly smug.

“Well, again, I was drunk, and it seemed relatively inconspicuous and not too weird, so.” Dipper shrugged. “You should’ve seen my friend Nate’s, though, he literally got an eagle all across his chest.” He laughed. “He woke up the next morning and _cried._ ”

“Your friends are weird,” Mabel remarked.

“Like _you_ can talk, you were friends with _Jenna Darabond -_ ”

“Oh my gosh, no, we are _not_ going there.”

 

The car ride continued in such a fashion. They eventually got out of traffic at around 9, and that was also when the last of the clouds cleared off. Despite the coffee, Bill fell asleep around the time they drove through Corvallis. Dipper, however, found himself wide awake.

It was about half an hour after Bill had fallen asleep that he said, “Mabel, I’m sorry I made you stay home.”

She sighed and didn’t look at him. “Look, bro, you just - you gotta get it through your head that I can take care of myself now. I could _always_ take care of myself. It’s not your job to protect me.”

“No, I know that, I promise I know that, I just - my mind kinda went everywhere imagining what we would find - and we found out that Damian’s a fucking _demon._ If I could redo last night knowing what I know now, I still would have made you stay home.”

Mabel glared at him, looking genuinely hurt. “How can you say that?? I can’t _believe_ you found that out without me, I wish I could have been there! I feel like I’m getting left out of _everything_ that’s going on, especially between you guys!”

Dipper winced, _I’m_ glad _she’s being left out of_ some _stuff._ “Look, I’m not trying to push you out -”

“But you are! You’re learning _magic_ and doing all kinds of weird mind stuff and you’re fighting _demons_ and I’m just sitting at home doing nothing! I want to help, I want to be more than a fricking bystander to all this stuff that’s going on!”

“Mabel, he tried to kill us! Look at this!” He held out his arm, where the grips of the black hands had left red lines and cuts. “He was in control of these weird, like, Doctor Octopus wriggly hand things, and they tore us up, you should see Bill, he was _covered_ in blood -”

“Wait, you got _hurt?”_ Mabel asked anxiously, looking at his arm. “You didn’t say anything!”

“It’s - it’s not that big of a deal, really, he didn’t hurt _me,_ but Bill - he got pretty beat up, I dunno why he’s not complaining, maybe he did some weird healing magic thing...I think Damian came off worse though, pretty sure Bill cracked a rib and I know he broke his nose.”

Mabel frowned and kicked her seat with her heel. “I know self-defense, I _should_ have been there.”

“Mabel, this isn’t like that one creepy dude at a frat party, he’s a _demon._ They were fighting with magic, there was, like, fire n’ shit, lightning, I was terrified,” he admitted. “At one point he was holding Bill down with all his weird noodle arms and I thought we were fucked. There were a few punches, yeah, but it was mostly magic.”

She looked down at her feet. “I still wish I was there.” She smiled slightly. “Didn’t Bill call us Holmes and Watson once?”

“Uh, yeah, like, a month n’ a half ago.”

“So, Holmes and Watson should be at their cases _together,_ right?”

“I guess,” Dipper conceded.

“So I’m coming to whatever happens next,” said Mabel firmly. “I don’t care what it is, I’m going to be there, no matter what you say.”

He wasn’t going to try to argue with her. “Okay.”

She seemed satisfied, leaning back in her seat. “Good. And hey, Bill said I could learn magic too! Just imagine…” She made a sweeping gesture with her hands in the air. “The Mystery Twins, fighting monsters with magic! And then we strike some cool poses and conjure some lightning bolts, _ksshhh.”_

Dipper laughed, ignoring the pricks of jealousy that popped up. “Sounds like a plan. You still have your grappling hook, right?”

“‘Course! Don’t you remember when we had to get Kirby’s art project out of that tree?”

“Oh, right, I forgot you were there. ‘Cause, I mean, that could be useful.”

“Yeah.” Mabel yawned. “Are you still good to drive? I kinda wanna take a nap.”

“Yeah, sure, but if you’re not up in an hour or two I’m waking you up.”

“Fine, fine.” Mabel put headphones in and fiddled with her phone for a minute before further reclining her seat and rolling onto her side.

Dipper turned up the radio a bit and hummed along as they trundled through Corvallis, still feeling a little guilty. _Great, now I have two things to feel weird about,_ he thought.

He felt odd thinking about the night before; it wasn’t entirely guilt, it wasn’t all embarrassment, and he didn’t completely detest himself for what he did, what he _allowed_ to happen, but there was discomfort there.

_What could I_ possibly _feel uncomfortable about?_ he asked himself sardonically. _Definitely not because I had sex with the demon that’s essentially been stalking my family for over 60 years._

Grimly, he remembered one of the things he’d read about soul bonds from a website he’d had to (badly) translate from German to English: that they often led to romantic and/or sexual entanglements, if there weren’t any prior to the ritual. And now he understood why. There was something so powerfully intimate about being able to see somebody’s thoughts and emotions during sex that it was almost _addictive._ There was no awkward blundering around not knowing what the other person liked or wanted, because that knowledge was right there in front of you, ready to be used.

Maybe it was because of his issues with attention and jealousy that he liked the sense of _belonging,_ he admitted grudgingly to himself. _Do weird adolescent issues transfer into kinks? Probably._

There was a shift in the headspace.

_Are you up?_ Dipper asked.

_Yep. What’re you thinking about?_

_Just, y’know, trying to figure out why exactly I had sex with you,_ he thought dryly.

The headspace filled with laughter. _I figured that would be obvious._

_Well, excuse me for having a bit of a moral dilemma over this._

_When are you gonna be_ over _your whole morals thing? You liked it, I liked it, just take that as it is._

_It’s_ weird. _I kinda spent a long time hating you. Still do, a bit._

_Hate and love aren’t opposites, Pine Tree._

_Jesus Christ, I’m not in_ love _with you, if_ that’s _what you’re getting from this -_

_I wasn’t done. Hate and love aren’t opposites, they’re both_ passionate. _Indifference is the opposite of both hate and love, because there’s nothing._

_So I fucked you because I hate you._

_Plausible._

Dipper sighed. _I don’t really_ hate _you anymore, I just - fuck, I don’t know. I don’t know. This is too confusing for me to figure out right now. I’m still pretty pissed off because of the whole ‘I’m your property’ thing, though,_ he added, anger flaring up at the thought. _I don’t get any choice in the matter??_

_Humans never do. You could do worse. I’m always kind to the humans I claim._

_Right, I’m sure Grunkle Ford could attest to that._

_Okay, that was_ once.

_Damian said that the humans you claim often end up dead._

_All humans die eventually._

_That’s not what I mean, and you know it. What do you have planned for me?_ Dipper asked cautiously. _What am I to you, exactly?_

Bill laughed again. _You’re my_ soulmate, _little tree._

Dipper pulled a face. _Don’t be stupid._

_Well, it’s true, our souls are bonded for life, we’re soulmates! Are you ever gonna be as close to anybody as you are to me? No._

_Hey, you don’t know that -_

_And maybe in a few years you won’t want to have this kind of closeness with anyone else, who knows? You and me, together forever._

_Don’t remind me._

_You also find me attractive, which I see as a bonus. You_ said _that that was some of the best sex you’ve ever had._

Dipper frowned, irritated. _Okay, that’s not -_

_So, why ever bother to get with anyone else? What, you’d date some other human?_ Bill scoffed. _Would they own up to me in any way? Would they be able to do the things I can?_ Dipper knew he wasn’t imagining the sensation of something pushing at his nerves.

_Okay, seriously, stop,_ he interrupted, furiously trying to make his blush go away. _You can’t - you can’t dictate my life like that._

Bill withdrew from his senses. ‘ _Course I can’t. But really, it just makes sense._

The headspace fell silent for a while. Mabel rolled over, her nose twitching in her sleep.

_Are there any donuts left?_

_Yeah._ Bill tossed the bag up into the front seat. _Can we stop and get more coffee?_

_Sure, I’ll find a gas station in a bit and make Mabel switch with me._

Dipper continued to stew in his cocktail of frustration and anxiety, doing his best to keep his thoughts as private as possible, and unabashedly stuffed his face with donuts as they moved steadily eastward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> END OF ACT ONE.


	15. Chapter Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ACT TWO: LOST IN TRANSLATION

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is like all worldbuilding and an excuse for me to write a scene that sounded fucking hilarious when i first thought of it.

The dreams were back after the first night.

Dipper woke up gasping and shaking, feeling more than slightly nauseous, his head pounding and - and he was _crying,_ he realized as he felt something on his face and wiped off a tear with a cold, clammy finger.

He couldn’t remember it linearly. All he knew was that the hands were there, chasing him no matter where he ran. But unlike the other dreams, a person - Damian - controlled the hands, acting as a macabre conductor, sending them after Dipper in swarms as he tried desperately to get away.

In flashes, he remembered screaming, he remembered clawing at concrete until his fingers bled, he remembered Damian’s laughter.

Worst of all, he could hear Damian’s voice: _This would be so much simpler if you would stop fighting and come with me._ Too soothing, too friendly. _You can think for yourself and make your own decisions, Dipper. Let me free you from your burden. Let me rescue you,_ he had said kindly as the hands dragged Dipper by his limbs away from the lifeless city and into a glowing sphere of purple-blue light.

And it was bad because he could recognize that tone of voice and those words, because just as much had already been said to him by a different demon, the one his soul was bonded to.

The bond felt like a chain shackled to his leg, then, cutting into his skin and restricting his blood flow. Locking him to something - someone - so erratic and destructive, so unpredictable and terrifying.

He rolled over, staring at the ceiling in the dark. Maybe it was because of his fucked up dream or because it was the dead of night or even because he was still sore from only about 28 hours ago, but he felt further away from his childhood than ever.

He shifted over to one side and looked at one of the framed pictures that he had put up; it was _really_ old, one of him, Mabel, and Grunkle Stan, all making stupid faces into the camera. They were either 12 or 13 - no, 12, he determined, _Mabel got her braces taken off before the next summer._

It was hard to believe it had all started ten whole years ago, even at around this same time. Memories of middle school and high school had blended together and gotten so mixed around that he could hardly remember which was from where, but the summers all stood out so vividly in his mind. They bloomed in the headspace, then, great grassy green memories.

_You’re awake?_

Dipper jumped. _Hoooly shit! Okay. Yeah, I’m awake, I guess you..are..also awake._

_Yeah, you woke me up. Your nightmare was pretty loud._

_Oh. Sorry._

_Eh, I wasn’t sleeping too well anyway._ The headspace on Bill’s end was very blank.

_Don’t wanna show me what -_

_Nope._

Dipper sighed. _You’re the one always stressing_ honesty _but you won’t unlock the headspace?_

_Hey, that’s different. These are totally personal immortal things. Nothing you could possibly want to hide has any level of importance._

_Gee, thanks._

_Well, cosmically or worldly significance anyway. When you’ve lived for billions of years and centuries go by like seconds, very little of what humans do is significant._

_It’s significant to us._

‘ _Course it is, but not to me._

_As odd as this may sound, it’d be nice if you cared a little bit about us._

_Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’ll protect you from_ anything _that tries to harm you. How could you say I don’t care_ _about_ you? _I may have made a_ bit _of a sweeping generalization. Humans are boring._ You  _are interesting._

His tone was sly, but Dipper felt a twinge of pride at the praise. He shook it off; it was just a game.

He rolled over. _I’m gonna try to go back to sleep._

‘ _Kay. I should too._

Bill’s attempt at going back to sleep was fruitful, as his presence faded from the headspace about ten minutes later, while Dipper shifted positions restlessly and couldn’t stay still. He rolled onto his side for the hundredth time and checked the clock - 4:14.

Grimly, he resigned himself to a sleepless early morning.

 

“Hey, bro! You’re up early,” Mabel commented as she slid into one of the stools in the kitchen. They had always been too tall for her and her feet dangled an inch or so off the ground. Her curly hair was tied back in a ponytail, but a few loose strands were tucked behind her ears.

Dipper glanced up from his second cup of coffee. “Huh? Oh, yeah. Couldn’t sleep.”

She frowned. “Was it the nightmares again?”

Dipper yawned. “Yeah, they’re very, er, realistic now.” She didn’t have to know the extent of the realism. “But at least we know the source.”

“So, what, Damian’s like, putting dreams in your head?” Mabel asked, concerned.

“Uh, sort of. He said that he’s been ‘intercepting’ my dreams, so maybe he’s not targeting me directly...well, actually, he called me by my name in this dream, so maybe he _is_ looking for me.”

She sat back, alarmed. “He _called_ you? How does he even know your name?”

“I - I don’t even know.” Dipper ran a hand through his hair. “Did we tell him our names at all?? Even mention it? Call each other by name?”

Mabel shook her head. “I’m pretty sure we didn’t use anybody’s names when we were visiting him -”

“I got it,” Dipper interrupted, remembering. “After we broke in, Bill called me by my nickname - like, _this_ nickname, not his weird stuff. Maybe Damian thinks that’s my real name?? Considering how long he’s been human, you’d think he’d know more about _names -”_

“How long _has_ he been human?” Mabel asked. “Couple years?”

“Since the fall of Constantinople,” Dipper replied, expecting the look of shock on her face.

“Since _what??_ So he’s like - he’s over six hundred years old!”

“He said it was an immortal body, that he got it through some deal.”

“An immortal body...so Bill’s isn't?”

“No, he ages like we do. Well, his body does.”

“Hm.” Mabel squinted and stared at the far wall in concentration. “Weird. Is that how Damian can have his arm thingies, then?”

“I mean, probably, I dunno.” Dipper shrugged and sat down next to his sister. He wanted to move away from the topic of his dreams. “So we’re demon-proofing the town today - “

“Right! Okay, this’ll be fun. What do we need to do?” Mabel asked, swiveling around and propping her chin up on her hands. “You gotta have a book about this kinda stuff.”

“I do - well, er, kinda. It’s in one of the books. I’ll go get it in a minute.” He knocked back half the cup of coffee. “I mean, a lot of what we’re gonna be doing is dumping consecrated salt all over the city limits.”

Mabel grinned. “ _Really?_ You don’t think we’re gonna get some weird looks?”

“Okay, it’s not _dumping,_ it’s _scattering,_ like - we get the salt, and there just has to be enough around the cardinal points and the points in between, that way we can do this ritual that connects all eight points together to preserve an area, it’s how people used to protect holy sites from being messed with or corrupted. It’s like, uh. A purification ritual.” Dipper wiggled his hands in a rather abstract gesture. “It makes the salt, like, ‘holy,’ or whatever, ‘pure,’ and that way it can act as a true defense against Damian. But there’s more than just salt, I’m pretty sure there’s other stuff that you can add, I think _paprika,_ maybe? Cumin?...”

“This is all so _complicated._ When did you even learn this stuff?”

Dipper shrugged helplessly. “I dunno, honestly, it just - kinda happened? When you spend a lot of time by yourself and most of your homework is easy, you find other stuff to do. So I ended up learning a lot of magic and alchemy and all that.” He gestured to the entrance to the kitchen. “I’ll go get that book.”

As he searched for the book, he berated himself for not having a better organization system. As neurotic as he was about certain things, the setup of his room wasn’t one of them. Some books were still stuffed in the trunk in the closet, some were on the floor; most were, thankfully, on their proper shelves, but weren’t arranged in any kind of order.

He grumbled to himself as he stooped down every 20-or-so seconds to retrieve a book off the floor and find a decent place to store it. _How the hell did I end up with all of these?_

The short answer was inheritance. Ford had left Dipper a lot of his scientific-alchemical-magical books and records when he had moved out. The rest Dipper had found through scrounging around seedy shops and strangers’ collections. One or two had been stolen, but there was no proof of that, and he would viciously deny it if asked.

He found it at last stuffed between _A Study in Paranormal Forensics, Vol. IV_ and _Is the Ghost of Your Grandmother Trying to Kill You_ , which he took one look at before shoving it behind a stack of analytical reports that looked as though they hadn’t been touched since the 80’s.

He himself had written in a table of contents on a blank page in the front. Sending a quick thank you to his past self, he found the section he was looking for and turned to it. He headed for the door with his nose in the book, ran into it, swore, then continued downstairs significantly more aware.

“Alright, here we go, ‘warding off demons from a designated area.’” He set the book down on the kitchen counter.

Mabel ran her finger down the page. “Wow, we really are gonna need a lot of this salt. Can we do it all at once?”

“Yeah...oh, shit, look. ‘While effective, this method will only work for a certain period of time lasting up to a fortnight.’ Heh, fortnight. ‘After this, the area will be vulnerable for at least three days before new salt can replace the old...the more times this cycle is repeated, the less powerful the shield becomes.’” Dipper frowned, looking out the window. “So it’s not like we can do this forever…”

“But it’ll work until we can come up with a real plan.”

“Yeah, let’s do it. If you can run out and buy some salt, I’ll get everything prepared for the ritual.”

“Sure thing.” Mabel slid off the stool and headed for the stairs. “M’ just gonna change.”

As he continued scanning the few paragraphs where the method was detailed, Dipper wondered yet again how his life ended up being so strange.

He sighed and leaned forward, his chin between his crossed arms. _Are things ever going to be normal? Do I even_ want _things to be normal? Would I just get bored?_

Excitement versus safety. Growing up with Stan and Ford as major influences in his life had caused him to lean more towards the former.

_Are you awake yet?_ he directed to the headspace, intentionally heading for the shared area. He was answered only by some flickering, nonsensical images and sounds that he didn’t recognize; just dreams. _You need to wake up sooner or later._ Nothing.

_Lazy asshole,_ he grumbled to himself, turning to put his dishes in the sink.

Mabel was back a few minutes later, wearing actual clothes and carrying her purse. “Okay, I’ll head out. How much do we need?”

“I dunno, get a couple pounds. If we end up with too much we can use it for, like, its intended purpose. Oh, yeah, make sure to get non-iodized.”

“Cool, cool, I’ll be back in a bit, don’t burn the house down.” The door closed and the car started a few seconds later.

Dipper balanced the book in one hand as he struggled to get everything he needed out of the cabinets and hoped he wouldn’t have to go hunting for another giant stick.

 

Fortunately, there was no need to go hunting for a giant stick, because there had been a branch propped against the side of the house. One end was weirdly sharp and it was bare, looking as though the bark had been burned away.

_Did you find this?_ Dipper asked the headspace, mildly amused, as he drew a half-assed but decent circle in the dirt with the branch. _You’re so weird._

He looked at the stick more critically after he had finished drawing the runes within the circle. Observing its grooves more closely revealed that such grooves and lines weren’t natural, but rather carved in. He followed them to the pointed end, where they curved around but didn’t seem to make any discernable markings.

“Dipper!” He heard Mabel shout from the front of the shack.

“I’m around back!” he shouted in reply.

“Help me with all this salt!”

He hurried around to the front and grabbed one of the bags of salt. “I got it.”

“You sure? You n’ your noodle arms,” Mabel teased, poking his shoulder.

_Noodle arms black arms with no bones reaching reaching hands touching grabbing -_

Dipper jerked away violently. “Yeah, yeah,” he mumbled, and hurriedly turned away from her to shuffle back to the circle.

“Is everything out here?” Mabel asked after setting the bag of salt on the ground and glancing around.

“Yeah, all I need to do is start the ritual -”

_What the hell are you doing??_ smashed into Dipper’s head like a missile, and he stumbled forward in shock.

_Um, getting the demon repellant stuff re -_

_Well, maybe you’ve forgotten, but there’s a demon_ living in your house _who is_ soul-bonded _to you who doesn’t really want to find himself thrown halfway across the state once you go through with that ritual._ Bill’s voice was literally biting sarcasm, as Dipper felt like his brain was being _chewed on_ with the intensity of the thoughts.

_Right._

_Did we not talk about this yesterday?_

_Sort of, you didn’t really elaborate._

_Okay, I’ll make it short and simple. If there’s that amount of consecrated salt anywhere around me, and I mean_ anywhere, _it’ll feel like I’m being dragged across broken, burning glass, like I’m being set on fire, like I’m_ dying. _And that shit’s not gonna stay on my side of the headspace, no, you’ll feel all of that too, so unless that sounds like a fun time, I suggest we_ don’t _do this._

Dipper grinned. _S_ _o I guess I know what to threaten you with from now on._

_You don’t want to know what I’ll do to you if you_ ever _try to threaten me with salt._

The images in the headspace made Dipper’s stomach seem to drop a few inches. _Er. Okay. So, what are we supposed to do, then?_

“Dip, what’re you doing?”

He glanced over to Mabel, who was looking very confused. “Oh, er, head-talking.” He relayed their conversation to her. “So, we can’t do it.”

She frowned. “Then how’re we gonna keep out Damian?”

“I don’t know.” _Can you, like, get out here? I don’t like having to repeat everything._

_Fine. You gloss over some of the details anyway._

Mabel sat down on a nearby stump and thought, her eyebrows knit together. Dipper found himself making the various objects levitate around him as he mused over the situation. He stared at the stick as it hovered and spun lazily a good three or four feet off the ground.

“I think I have something,” said Mabel hesitantly.

“What?”

“Okay, you know what exposure therapy is, right? They do it with like, phobias and stuff? Where they slowly introduce you to the phobia in different steps over time so that eventually it gets better?”

“Yeah, sort of.” Dipper made a swatting gesture with his hands and the objects settled back to the ground.

“So, why don’t we try that with the salt?” Mabel suggested. “Like, we do a little bit and expose it to him, then when that stops hurting him we do a little more, and then enough so that when we set up the salt around the city limits he won’t, um, how did he say it? ‘End up in a ditch 20 miles away with a wicked headache.’”

“That...actually sounds like it could work.”

The screen door on the back deck opened and Bill stepped out looking tired and disgruntled.

_Why do you look so tired??_ Dipper asked. _You just slept for like, 14 hours._

_I’ve discovered that humans can, in fact, sleep too much._ “Are we all up to date on how this could potentially kill me?” Bill asked dryly, stifling a yawn.

“I had an idea,” said Mabel, standing up. “Exposure therapy.”

Bill nodded. “I heard you.”

“You _heard - ?_ Oh, right. That’s...right.” Mabel seemed mildly perturbed when she glanced between Dipper and Bill. “Um, so, yeah, could it work?”

“I’d be willing to try it,” said Bill a bit grudgingly. The dark circles under his eyes were more prominent than usual. “But only a really small amount.”

“‘Course! Okay, let’s do this. Dipper?” Mabel gestured to the circle, sitting back down on the stump and crossing her legs.

Dipper clapped his hands and unrolled the tarp he’d brought out to dump all the salt on, setting it in the middle of the circle. He scooped out a handful of salt and set it on the tarp, then added in some spices, brown and red flecks among the white.

“So why are we _flavoring_ the salt?” Bill asked, raising an eyebrow. He was levitating about a foot off the ground looking rather bored.

“Purified spices ward off evil, it was a superstition from the Middle Ages that ended up being true in an way...aren’t you supposed to know that?” Dipper asked, grinning slightly.

Bill just sniffed and didn’t answer.

“Okay.” Dipper sat at the north end of the circle, where a feather had been placed to represent air, as opposed to the fire from before.

He took a deep breath, then planted his hands on the circle. “ _Invoco elementis terra.”_

“I’m never gonna get sick of watching this stuff,” Mabel whispered, starry-eyed as she stared at the circle, which began to glow a pure, blinding white.

“ _Quacumque die invocavero te ut sanctificarent quod est ante oculos vestros. Eum sanctum faciat ac sacrum profanetur ad propulsandum malum."_ The glow reached the combination of salt and spices. “ _Faceret potest tangi horroribus ex aliarum Tellurum. Repellunt omne malum. Tueri omne quod bonum.”_

The glow receded after a few seconds and they were left with a handful of salt that looked very ordinary. The only thing that had changed was Bill, who was backing away from the salt with a revolted look on his face.

“Eugh, I can feel it from here. It’s too _pure._ I’m gonna puke.”

“How much is it affecting you?” Dipper asked, his pen and notebook at the ready. “Does it hurt? Can you still do magic?”

“Well, it’s giving me a hell of a migraine. Let’s see...” Bill flicked his hand in a random direction; with a loud creaking noise, a tree wrenched itself out of the earth a foot or so, then fell back into it with a _thud_ that sent forest animals running for cover.

The twins stared at the suddenly displaced tree with surprise while Bill crossed his arms and frowned over at it. “Damn. I was trying to uproot it completely.”

Dipper hastily scribbled something down. “And it’s giving you a headache?” He grimaced and touched his forehead. “Yeah, I can kinda feel that. Okay, um, why don’t we keep it away from you for a while until that feeling goes away.”

“Fine by me.”

 

It was over 24 hours later at dinner that Bill sat up and said, with some relief, “Hey, it doesn’t hurt anymore! Th’ salt, I can’t even feel it, s’ like it’s not even there.”

“How far away is it?” Mabel asked, but it sounded more like “‘Ow arh aweh ith ih?” as her mouth was full of rice.

Dipper pointed. “It’s sitting in the lounge.”

“So, what, ten feet away or so? Wow, that was _fast,"_ Mabel commented after swallowing. She got up and retrieved it, then set it down right in front of Bill. “D’you still feel nothing?”

He nodded. “Yep, can’t feel it at all.”

“He’s telling the truth,” Dipper added. “I can’t feel anything either.”

“Wait.” Mabel licked her finger, stuck it on the salt, and touched Bill’s cheek. “Still nothing?”

“Okay, _gross,_ and yeah, nothing.” Bill wiped it away looking slightly disgusted. “So, what, now we do more of that?”

“Yep, that’s how exposure therapy works,” said Mabel cheerfully. “So now we do the purity thing to more and more salt until you can’t feel a thing!”

“Exactly how long is this gonna take?” Bill asked with a sigh, propping his chin up on his hands.

The twins glanced at each other and shrugged.

 

“Okay, this is getting ridiculous.”

“This is _hilarious.”_

“This is humiliating! I didn’t sign up for this when I became human! This is all _your guys’_ fault, this is _bullshit._ I won’t tolerate this. I deserve _way_ more respect than this.”

Mabel was giggling so hard her face was turning red, and was taking pictures with her phone. Dipper was making the expression of someone trying very, very hard not to laugh.

“Can I at least move my arms?” Bill asked irritably.

“Nope,” Mabel managed to say through her giggles.

“Hey, relax, you only have to sit there for…” Dipper checked the time on his phone. “...eleven more hours.”

The immense amount of salt that filled the bathtub shifted when Bill folded his arms. “I hate everything about this. You should know that.” Only his head was visible; the rest of his body was submerged in the salt. “This is the worst thing I have _ever_ done, and yes, I’m counting the water park incident.”

There was a clicking sound as Mabel’s phone camera went off. “Stop taking pictures!!” He scowled up at them. “See, now I remember why I devoted ten years to trying to destroy you and your family.”

“I’m totally gonna put these on Facebook,” Mabel decided, laughing.

“How th’ hell are you gonna explain _this_ to our family n’ friends?” Dipper asked, gesturing to the tub.

“We can say he lost a bet, I mean, didn’t your friend Kirby have to get into a bathtub full of fried chicken once?”

“Yeah, but we all agreed that it wasn’t a good punishment because he just ate all the chicken.”

“You know, I could just get out,” Bill interrupted. “There’s nothing stopping me.”

“We’ll just make you get back in,” Dipper replied. “You wanna go against me _and_ Mabel, that’s your choice.” Mabel set her phone down and cracked her knuckles.

Bill rolled his eyes and sunk further into the salt. “Whatever.”

Dipper grinned. “Come on, you can last another eleven hours. Want me to move your computer in here? You hungry?”

“...yes.”

Mabel stood up. “I’ll get stuff, I’m hungry too.” She closed the bathroom door behind her.

_You owe me big for this,_ Bill complained. _You can’t comprehend how uncomfortable this is._

_Eh, I can feel a bit of it. But is it ‘the salt is killing me’ pain or ‘the salt is itchy’ pain?_

_The second one. Mostly._

‘ _Cause if we did this properly, it shouldn’t be bothering you too much._

_Well, it’s sanctified stuff and I’m literally a demon, it’ll always bother me to some extent. But the fact that I can sit in a bathtub of salt without bursting into flames is proof enough that ‘Star’s plan worked._ Bill frowned. _Gotta say, I never thought I’d wind up sitting in a bathtub of salt for any reason._ He shook his head at Dipper. _You two’re real pieces of work._

_Must run in the family._

_Sixer never made me do this._

_Okay, but he did punch you in the face that one time._

_One time? He’s punched me in the face almost every single time I’ve occupied a human body since I started working with him._

_I should give him a call, I wonder if he’d do it again._

_You’re being unnecessarily violent._ Bill’s mouth twitched. _You should find a better outlet for your_ frustration, _little tree._ What he didn’t specify the headspace did for him.

Dipper looked away, making a face. _Yeah, I’m gonna go back to the old policy of ‘not talking about this.’_ He felt a prickling feeling somewhere in the depths of his mind.

_It’s just so_ funny  _when this whole façade falls away. This whole front you put up, your toughness and your morality and confidence and nobility. Sure, some of it is you, but how much of it did you invent to hide your insecurities, your fears? How much of it is an armor you constructed when the world started turning against you?_

Dipper kept up a steady mantra of _ignore him_ in his head.

_For such a short period of time I saw_ you _, both the you that the world sees and the you that no one was ever supposed to see. And it was_ incredible, _watching you fall apart and surrender to_ that _self, the one that only you and I know about._

_Stop._

_Do you know how deep I had to go to find that desperate need for attention? Not that far! You just wanted somebody to listen to you, and most of the time, you hardly had that at all. Sure, your sister was there for you, but she didn’t always understand, she didn’t always care to the extent that you did. One of the reasons you became so dedicated to your education is out of_ spite _for the people around you. If you graduate valedictorian, they_ have _to pay attention to you._

_Seriously -_

_And you got attention, but for the wrong things! Sure, everyone noticed how smart you are, which was nice, but no one noticed_ you. _And now I’m noticing you for who you are, not just for what you can do, and you push me away?_ Bill almost sounded _hurt._

_Of course I fucking push you away, you’re trying to twist my mind around to suit your own fucking agenda!_ Dipper retorted angrily. _You want me to be honest with you but you won’t be honest with me! It’s a give and take, and I’m not giving any more than you can give me back._ God, _can we please talk about something else?_

Bill rolled his eyes. _Look, I’m not trying to convince you of anything, this is just how I see you because our souls are so tightly bound together._ He placed unnecessary stress on the last three words. _You want honesty from me? Fine, ask me something._

_Why are you estranged from your house?_

Bill was quiet for a few seconds, his eyes trained on the wall. _That was fast._

_I’m curious._ Dipper crossed his legs.

_Well, if you must know, I made a series of mistakes -_

_I know that, I just want to know what kinds of mistakes these were._

_Fine. I will tell you_ one _mistake I made that led me to be estranged from my house. I was defeated in France by a demon of a different house. It was humiliating for both me and my house, didn’t reflect well on any of us. That was only one of the_ many _things that led them to, er, part ways with me._

Dipper was genuinely surprised - and fascinated, his discomfort from earlier fading. _Really? So - so there’s a kind of hierarchy? Competition between houses? Were you and this demon trying to do the same thing? Did they have a blood feud with you too?_

_One thing at a time. Yes, yes, yes, and no._

_You can’t just end there! Did they -_

“Alright, I got food, your laptop, and your phone,” Mabel announced as she came back into the room, kicking the door partially closed behind her.

Dipper glanced at Bill. _Later,_ the demon said, jerking his head slightly. _When we’re alone._

_I don’t know if I want to be alone with you._

_Oh, lighten up, the worst that can happen is -_

“ _Guys,_ talk out loud!” Mabel complained.

“Sorry!” they apologized simultaneously.

Dipper got up rather quickly and nearly knocked over his chair. “I’m gonna, uh. Double check the finances.” He hurried out but didn’t close the door, heading downstairs to the study.

_You can’t run from this,_ Bill thought. _You can run around it or into it, but you can’t escape it._

_So when we put you in a bad position, your immediate reflex is to go Hannibal Lecter on me?_ Dipper replied crossly as he stomped down the stairs.

_Works, doesn’t it? You’re all discombobulated._

It was true, though he didn’t like it. It wasn’t like he wasn’t aware of his _issues,_ but he didn’t like Bill knowing all about them. It was just another way he could manipulate him, as if he hadn’t already been able to do that without the help of the headspace. _Ugh._

_And you’re stuck in a tub full of salt for the next eleven hours,_ he retorted.

_Touché._

 

It was a Saturday, so the twins were able to stay awake until midnight to clear out all the salt without any repercussions. Bill complained for a good five minutes, then kicked them out so he could shower.

With this, Mabel decided to sleep. “I was gonna get some of my sewing stuff out tomorrow, I haven’t actually made anything since my senior thesis project, so I’m gonna get up early tomorrow and start a new project, I think.”

“Sounds cool, what’re you gonna make?” Dipper asked, following her down the hall.

She shrugged. “Dunno - _oh my gosh,_ idea!” Her eyes lit up and she grabbed Dipper’s hand a little too violently. “I should make us all _matching sweaters!”_

Dipper’s face resembled that of someone looking at a large amount of garbage. “You should _not_ do that.”

“No, no, it’d be so cute! I mean, we’re basically a family now -”

“Mabel, he is _not_ part of our family,” said Dipper, shaking his head in consternation. “Are you kidding me? Just because we’re _stuck_ with him - _I’m_ stuck with him - doesn’t mean he’s part of our family.”

Mabel looked over at her brother, confused. “You guys seem to be getting along so much better now, though, I saw you practicing magic yesterday and you’ve actually been talking to each other…”

“Yeah, well, this” - Dipper gestured behind him - “doesn’t mean anything to him.” All of the cruel or insensitive things that Bill had said and done to him were all too vivid in his mind. “I mean, you know he doesn’t understand emotions, right?”

“You might’ve mentioned it.”

“So he doesn’t get sadness or regret or guilt, he doesn’t - he just can’t even comprehend them. Those’re just _words_ to him. He might be able to observe them in me, and after a long time he could feel them sort of like we do, but...he’s not a person, Mabel. We can’t forget that he’s not a person.”

“I guess you’re right.” Her smile had faded. “It just - none of this seems _real._ We have a demon living in our house, and there’s another demon trying to kill _that_ demon, and - and we’re turning _23_ this year, and I still feel like I’m 19, and - I don’t know what to do.” She stared down at her feet. “It’s so much easier to just pretend that everything’s fine, like maybe we can be just a normal little family.”

Dipper sighed and put an arm around her shoulders. “I know. I understand. I’m not, like, mad at you. I’m - well, I’m almost perpetually mad at _him_ for getting us into this whole mess. I mean, it’s not his fault that Damian’s going axe-crazy, but, y’know, everything else.”

“See, I just _can’t_ be mad at him all the time,” said Mabel, smiling slightly. “Did you see the way he freaked out when that wasp landed on him yesterday?”

“Oh, yeah, that was hilarious.”

“He’s not a total stone cold dick. Maybe he’ll change a bit, eventually.” Mabel shrugged, then yawned. “Okay, I’m goin’ to bed. See you tomorrow.”

“G’night.”

Dipper had intentionally blocked out the headspace throughout the conversation, but now it was open again, and an assortment of emotions floated erratically within. His own frustration was the loudest, practically kicking others out of the way.

_Is_ that _how you feel?_

_Surprised you didn’t pick up on it sooner._ Dipper pulled his shirt over his head and swapped his jeans for sweatpants, then sat on the couch and telekinetically turned the TV on and switched it over to Netflix. He found the episode of Twin Peaks he had left off on and resumed watching.

_Is this just because I was mean to you earlier?_ Bill asked in a rather patronizing tone.

_It’s because you’re an asshole all the time._

_Doesn’t mean you have to trash talk me in front of your sister, she and I have been getting along pretty well. I like the matching sweaters idea. Very domestic._

Dipper focused on the TV and didn’t respond.

_Listen, little tree. You have good reasons for not liking me or trusting me. Makes total sense! But I’m not out to get you anymore._

_You’ll never be able to understand the impact of what you’ve done. You’ll never feel remorse._

_I could. At some point when I’m human enough to feel your emotions._

_But until then -_

_Until then, what, we stay like this? Some antagonistic circlejerk? It’s been a month n’ a half. You need to accept this situation now._

Dipper winced, he knew, he knew he’d still been denying it, that it still felt so unreal, like Mabel had said. _Okay. Okay. I’m - I’m sorry. I guess you - you can’t help not being able to experience emotions._

_Exactly! I mean, not that I would necessarily choose to, so many bad decisions were made purely based on_ emotion, _yikes_ \- _but yes, I’m not trying to royally piss you off by not being able to feel remorse, though it is a bonus._

_Ugh. Whatever._

A few minutes passed in silence.

_You’re still frustrated._

_Of course I am._

_And your feelings towards me are conflicted. Ooh,_ very _conflicted. This is fun._

_Get out._ Dipper didn’t have the energy to actively kick Bill out of his side of the headspace.

_Fine, fine, I’m going to sleep anyway. G’night, little tree, sleep well._

_'Night,_ Dipper thought begrudgingly.

_Oh, right - if you have a nightmare, wake me up._

_Why?_

_Because I’ll be able to help. I’ve done it before, remember?_

_...fine, I’ll consider it._

_Good! Okay, g’night._

Dipper shoved Bill’s thoughts rather unceremoniously away from his own. He put his hands over his eyes and groaned in frustration. _When will any of this make any sense?_

He grimaced wryly and took his hands away, turning back to the TV. _With my luck, never._

 

He didn’t remember falling asleep in front of the TV on the couch, but he discovered that he did when he woke up screaming into a pillow, thin and high-pitched like a train whistle in the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, something one of my friends discovered for me is that there is a song titled desperate measures that...weirdly kind of works with this fic which is strange as all hell. [but don't take my word for it.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GWD_Kxft49E)
> 
> as always tysm for all of your feedback!!!


	16. Chapter Fifteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3/4 of this is unnecessary and very self-indulgent smut. the first bit is plot relevant, at least.
> 
> warnings again for **dubious consent,** potentially noncon, depending on how you personally define it. dom/sub, mind manipulation, coercion, stuff along those lines. skip this chapter or read with caution if these affect you.

_Make it stop make it stop_

He was still screaming, though it was cracking and muffled by the pillow he clung onto, his knuckles turning white.

_Make it stop MAKE IT STOP_

It was mere seconds before the remnants of the dreams were thrown rather unceremoniously from the headspace. The vast expanse glowed like angry candlelight, waving back and forth.

Hesitantly, Dipper raised his head from the pillow. The dream was just _gone._ He couldn't remember it at all. Like it was never there.

His racing heart started to calm down, and he released the pillow. He became aware of a pain in his neck from sleeping in an awkward position.

_Are you okay?_

_I’m - yeah, what -_

_I got rid of it. Look, you need my help._

Dipper frowned and swung his shaking legs over the side of the couch, hobbling over to his bed and falling face first onto it. _I’m fine._

_You’re not fine. That was a really bad nightmare._

Dipper was too tired to tell if Bill actually sounded concerned or not. If there was a sneer in his voice, he hid it well. _Well, it’s gone now, so I’m fine,_ he thought firmly.

_This one’s gone, but there’ll be another one once you go back to sleep._

_How do you know?_

_Taking the last week into consideration, let’s just say I’m making an educated guess._

Bill was annoyingly right.

_I can help you._

_I need to figure this out for myself._

_This isn’t something you can really do. It’s more under my jurisdiction._

Dipper didn’t reply, just rolled over onto his back, staring up at the tall A-frame ceiling, reflecting on how many times he’d ended up doing that in the last month. Sleepless nights. A familiar ceiling.

_If you don’t want to go back to sleep and have those terrible nightmares, you’ve got two options. One: you never sleep again. Two: you let me help you._

Dipper sighed. _Neither sound appealing._

_My deepest condolences. Pick one._

_Fine,_ Dipper thought reluctantly. _Help me._

_Ask nicely._

He grimaced. _Please help me._

_There ya go! Come downstairs, I don’t feel like getting up._

_But - fine._ Dipper hauled himself out of bed and threw on a shirt before leaving his room, walking as quietly as possible down the hallway and down the stairs.

He was briefly taken aback as he opened the door to Bill’s room, as he had hardly looked in the room since it had become permanently occupied, and it was vastly different than it had been before.

The walls were painted a deep midnight blue - when this happened, Dipper had no idea, because the walls used to be white - and some of the furniture was brand new, a combination of modern and classic, all dark wood and glass. The bed was arranged against the back wall beneath the window, with the dresser at the foot of the bed, next to the closet that was set into the wall. There was a loveseat and a TV, with a coffee table between the two, and a sparsely-filled bookshelf.

Bill was lying on the bed on his back looking at his phone as it hovered above him, and he didn’t look over when Dipper entered, but made a gesture. “C’mere.”

Dipper approached cautiously and sat at the foot of the bed. He scanned the room. “When did you paint this?”

“A while back. Nice color, right? This room used to be so _bland._ But I spiced it up!”

“That’s - whatever, can you just…?” Dipper gestured at his forehead. “I’m tired and I have stuff to do tomorrow.” He stifled a yawn with the back of his hand.

“Yeah, yeah.” Bill waved his hand and his phone set itself down on the bedside table. He sat up and pushed his messy hair out of his eyes. “Face me.”

Dipper turned his head and purposefully looked at a point on the wall behind Bill’s head, not wanting to meet his gaze.

Bill leaned forward and brought their foreheads together, then held Dipper’s face in his hands, thumbs pressing into his temples. Dipper closed his eyes instinctively at the familiar ritual and tried to keep his heart from jumping at their sudden closeness.

_You have to let me in completely, remember?_

Dipper wrinkled his nose. _Right._

With a few waves of his metaphorical hand, he removed the barriers he had put up inside his head - well, most of them. Some of his deepest personal thoughts remained locked and sealed.

If Bill noticed this, he didn’t comment on it, only zeroed in on the part of Dipper’s brain where all issues involving his dreams were located. He poked at it and Dipper inwardly winced.

_Yeah, this area’s taken some abuse lately, hasn’t it? Hmm. Okay._

The sensation of glowing mental walls being put up in Dipper’s head was vaguely recognizable from the ride out to Newport, but these seemed stronger and left him feeling almost too top heavy. They glowed brightly behind his eyelids, all pastel and gold fences. Despite the slight discomfort, he breathed easier knowing that the borders were up again.

_Thanks._

Bill seemed to be searching for words. _Would you - ah, how do I even say this. Look, I’m trying to find patterns in your dreams, something that could hint at what exactly Damian’s planning. He can’t exactly send them to_ me, _so maybe he’s trying to get a message to me through you._

_He’s addressed me directly before._

The headspace pulsed angrily. _I saw. Y’know, I could have his head for even_ trying _to contact you. You shoulda seen what happened to this one guy I knew, that was_ not _nice._

_I’m afraid to ask._

_Dream demon I knew, not a member of my house, just a guy I’d met a few times...he gave a nightmare to a human claimed by another demon and they killed him._

_You can_ kill _demons??_

‘ _Course. I mean, not on this dimensional plane. But in mine, yeah, happens all the time. It was pretty gory, I could hardly watch, but it’s always a kind of spectacle when one of us gets killed. And it’s not like we have any strong attachments to each other or anything, so that’s not a problem, it just stirs things up a bit in the area. Then the demon dies and everything’s okay again for a while, until somebody else does something stupid._

_Wow._

_So, yeah, do I have your permission?_

_Er -_

_To look through your dreams._

_Oh. Um. Yeah, alright, but only the ones with Damian in them,_ Dipper thought. _Don’t touch any of the other ones._

 _Wouldn't_ dream _of it._ Bill’s presence in the headspace flickered and faded slightly as he immersed himself in Dipper’s nightmares.

Dipper himself withdrew from the headspace, as everything that Bill dug up and looked through was suddently prominent in their minds. He threw up some feeble walls and blocked out most of what was on display to protect his own fragile head.

He could still sense the emotion of the headspace; anger, mostly, peppered with anxiety and interest. The feelings intensified with each passing minute and Dipper's heartbeat stuttered in apprehension of what Bill would find.

Then the headspace froze.

_He can see you._

_What?_ Dipper asked blankly.

It started to vibrate, to shake violently.  _He can - he can see you. Right now._

_What??_

_He’s_ watching _you._ Bill’s voice shook with fury. _He’s watching you right now. He’s watching you because he can’t watch me and he’s - he’s trying to get to me, he’s trying to get me to go find him, he’s_ using _you._

Dipper felt numb with dread. _You mean he can see what we’re doing right now?_

 _He can see what goes on in your head, to - to some extent. He knows that I can see your dreams because I’m a dream demon too, he - he’s using you, he can’t fucking_ do _that, it’s not allowed at_ all, _if this were happening normally I could have him murdered,_ Bill was snarling, animalistic and furious.

_Then does he - does he know that we -_

_No, he can’t see the soul bond, he doesn’t know about that, and it’s - he can’t see all of your thoughts, but he can see enough to know what you do, your routine, your relationships -_

_Then does he know where we are??_

_No, but he’s going to find out soon. I just - I - I can’t fucking believe this, his fucking_ audacity, _he’s - he’s flaunting his power. He’s trying to get my attention. He’s just trying to draw me to him. Through interfering with you, because he knows about the claim._

 _But he can’t now because of the walls you just put up, right?_ Dipper asked nervously.

No response, just a low growling sound, like slowed-down static.

Dipper was honestly scared; the headspace was still shaking with fury, Bill’s voice was dark and trembling with anger. All of his own terror surrounding Damian was pounding in his head, his black hands and his laughter and his magic and his teeth, his entire self, his power -

The intensified connection broke very abruptly, and Dipper opened his eyes to see Bill holding his head in his hands. His teeth were bared in a ferocious expression, his fingers dug into his scalp, and his eyes burned a bright scarlet red in the dark. His breathing came in short, frantic hisses of air. It was downright terrifying and Dipper was frozen in place.

_Calm me down._

_What?_

_You have to calm me down NOW._

_How??_

_Put different things into the headspace._

_Okay, okay, um…_

Dipper searched around hastily and thought of some of the better moments of the last month; the three of them just watching TV, or playing video games, or attempting to cook dinner as a group. The two of them practicing magic. The beach, and only the beach, not what came after. Just the water and the blue sky and the sand.

_Is this working?_

_Yeah._ Bill’s eyes were flickering between red and yellow now.  _More stuff. Hurry._

Dipper cast around frantically for more, found some pretty images of sunsets seen from the roof of the shack, some of the nicer views from the road trip to Newport and back, random pictures of green meadows and sun-dappled forests and blue lakes.

The headspace was no longer vibrating at such a high speed, and Bill was no longer hyperventilating. His hands, clenched into fists, started to relax.

He raised his head and laughed hoarsely. “And _that’s_ why you don’t piss off a demon with a claim.”

“W-what even was that?” Dipper asked, staring at Bill anxiously. “Some kind of panic attack?”

Bill cracked his neck. “It’s kind of our equivalent of an _adrenaline rush._ If our humans are in danger, that’s how we react. Not pretty, is it?” He bared his teeth in a grin. “It happened with Damian, too, but you weren’t around for a lot of it.”

“Wow. I’m surprised he’s still, like, _alive._ You looked like you could -”

“Kill somebody? Nearly did. But he was too strong, and I had to catch up with you because of that separation pain.” Bill looked over at Dipper, his gaze suspiciously fervent. His eyes were back to yellow. “Was that too _freaky_ for you? You alright?”

“Er...yeah, yeah, I’m alright,” Dipper replied hastily, taken off guard and wary.

“Good.”

Bill’s hands were on Dipper’s shoulders and shoving him onto the bed before he could even think of an argument. By the time he tried to stammer out a “What the _hell,”_ they were kissing and the words went unsaid.

As much as he hated to admit it, some part of him surrendered immediately, some part of him had craved this since that first night and gave up with no further protest. It was _bad,_ he thought, horror rising from his stomach to his throat, it was _bad bad really bad this shouldn’t be happening again -_

Bill laughed once, a short _huff._ “What, don’t you _want_ me to _calm down?”_

The raw anger had left his voice low and a little scratchy and he was still so _mocking,_ and it took no more than that for the hazy memories to come rushing back. Dipper bit his lip at the bits and pieces he could remember; teeth in his neck, hands leaving finger-shaped bruises on his waist -

He took a very sudden breath when he felt Bill’s hands on his hips, pushing his sweats down so their skin was touching and Bill’s fingers curled slightly and his hips moved of their own accord, pushing slightly off the bed, and Bill was _laughing._

“I’ve barely touched you and you already want it, so _transparent,”_ he sneered, punctuating the sentence by nipping at Dipper’s neck, sharp enough to sting. “Have you been waiting for this ever since I fucked you a week ago?”

“Shut up, I d - I don’t - get off me!” Dipper tried to shove Bill away from him, but his wrists were caught and slammed down into the bed. He couldn’t help the whine that escaped from his mouth, couldn’t help the way his hips jerked when Bill bit at his neck again, _why this why does he hurt me  -_

“Why _do_ you like pain?” Bill murmured, his teeth grazing the veins in Dipper’s throat. “Is it because you think you _deserve_ it?”

“W - why do you _hurt_ me?” Dipper retorted out loud, ignoring him. “If I’m your _object -”_

“Do you _ever_ listen to me? It’s _because_ you’re my property that I can do whatever I want to you.” Dipper felt a stir of angry fervor in the headspace. “And Damian will see that.”

Dipper was mildly creeped out. “Damian can see -”

“See the marks I’ve left on you. See everything I’ve done to you. Maybe then he’ll learn that I’ll _destroy_ him if he touches you.” Bill’s grip on Dipper’s wrists tightened. “The only person allowed to hurt you is _me.”_

“Right, that’s not creepy or weird at all,” Dipper said dryly, but his heartbeat had picked up and the atmosphere in the headspace was turning red and _fuck,_ how the _hell_ was he already half-hard, they’d barely even _done_ anything -

Bill laughed and pulled away, kneeling. “Wow, you _do_ kinda like pain, don’t you? Do you _like_ being my property?” he teased. Dipper made a face in response.

“Hmm. If I let go of your wrists, are you gonna keep struggling? Not that it’s not fun when you do, but I kinda need my hands.”

Dipper gave a tiny shake of his head.

“Good, _now_ you’re cooperating.” Bill released Dipper’s wrists, and he shook out his hands before planting them on the mattress and struggling into a half sitting position. When Bill leaned forward and kissed him, he tilted his head slightly and kissed back; the headspace was filled with the familiar haze and he was more inclined to listen to his body rather than his mind.

“ _Who_ do you belong to?” Bill asked softly, their lips touching. His hands were up Dipper’s shirt and around his waist, on his stomach.

“You,” Dipper mumbled dully out of obligation, barely audible, but then he felt a probing in his nerves, _fucking hell that’s so good_ and he exhaled a moan, his arms trembling as he grabbed handfuls of the sheets and tried to sit up properly. “ _Fuck,_ you, you.”

Bill hummed in satisfaction. “Tell me that you’re mine,” he said, arrogant and almost nonchalant, before biting at Dipper’s collarbone and sending a shockwave to his nerves.

“ _Ah, fuck,_ I’m - I’m _yours,”_ Dipper panted, grimacing at the words, shame joining the red haze in the headspace once again as his whole body shook. He hated how those words sounded in his mouth, hated even more that he liked them. “I’m yours, _nnh.”_ He leaned in to the probing in his nerves, tilting his head back.

He felt Bill’s hand between his legs and his hips once again jerked of their own accord, his breath coming in harsh rasps, his eyes firmly closed against reality.

“ _Right,_ I gotta see this _tattoo_ ,” Bill said thoughtfully, his hands around Dipper’s waist and trailing down, pulling his sweatpants out of the way. It wasn’t hard to find, but could be passed over if one’s mind was otherwise occupied; the tiny silhouette of a pine tree sat dark on Dipper’s right hip, barely two inches tall. He touched it and Dipper twitched, turning his head and staring at the wall.

“Oh, this suits you. Anything too _gaudy_ wouldn’t really be your style.” Bill leaned down and  _bit_ at the tattoo and pressed a little harder on his nerves and Dipper’s arms finally gave out.

_Do you want this? Tell me._

“I want - I want this, yes, yeah, _fuck,_ please,” Dipper said through gritted teeth, staring up at the ceiling, silently hating and berating himself.

 _Such a good listener._ Dipper winced. _Now, what do you want me to do to you?_ Bill’s tone was so fucking _smug._ Dipper had never felt a stronger urge to punch him in the face.

 _Okay, well, you can’t do that._ Bill was absentmindedly kissing Dipper’s stomach, his hands still on his hips. _Why don’t I choose for you?_ he thought airily, and moved to press his mouth against the outline of Dipper’s cock in his sweatpants.

Dipper fisted his hands in the sheets and threw his head back, his chest heaving. He had no idea when he’d become so _sensitive_ to even the smallest touches; maybe it was some permanent side effect of all that had been done to his nerves. Whatever the explanation, he _wanted_ it, wanted it so much it _hurt._

Bill had one hand on his leg and the other stroking him roughly, getting faster. He growled something unintelligible and leaned forward, grabbed Dipper by the hair and kissed him, almost more teeth than lips, messy and uncoordinated but enough for Dipper to cling to Bill’s shirt and moan into his mouth.

_You’re mine._

_Yes,_ Dipper thought, his heart pounding hard enough to feel it in his ears, a disconnect between the affirmation and his reluctance.

_Then you’ll do as I say?_

_Yes,_ he thought again, with more conviction.

_If you want me to fuck you, put your mouth to good use for once._

They were still kissing but Dipper froze, barely breathing, a peculiar feeling settling somewhere beneath his stomach.

Bill pulled away, licking blood off his lip, and raised an eyebrow. “Well?”

Dipper nodded and hardly felt it. “Yeah, okay,” he said, but it didn’t feel like him, there was a fog between his brain and his vocal chords and his mouth. It was embarrassing; he was just  _nervous._

When Bill backed away onto his knees he started to do the same, but Bill planted a hand on his chest and pushed him down. “No, no, you don’t have to move. Just sit against those pillows.”

He nodded again and sat back. Embarrassed, he closed his eyes and chewed on his lip.

 _What, you don’t want to_ degrade _yourself? Humiliate yourself?_ A laugh. _Are you afraid that you’ll_ like _my cock shoved down your throat?_

Dipper made a noise halfway between a whimper and a whine, grimacing at himself. _Shut up._

Suddenly there was a hand in his hair and another on the side of his face and he instinctively opened his mouth. He felt half-aware of his own body, but Bill wasn’t controlling him, it was just his anxieties, his embarrassment. Bill’s thumb grazed his cheekbone and the headspace was blooming with a fiery kind of _hunger -_

And then there was a fucking dick in his _mouth_ and his heart pounded with an incensed fury and he was very _very_ aware of his physical situation, _I’ve never done this before what do I even do,_ he had to open his mouth as much as possible and his hands shook at his sides, hesitant and dumbstruck.

An irritated sigh. _You take too long._

It took less than a second for the haze to intensify, throbbing like a great metaphysical heart inside the headspace, heavy and loud and _fuck_ if Dipper had had any hesitation it was gone now with Bill gripping his hair tightly and roughly fucking his mouth, there was no consideration for Dipper’s comfort and that made it _better why is that making it better,_ he demanded frantically of the headspace and of his own mind. Everything tasted like sweat and skin and there was a faint tang of salt, but it wasn’t _bad,_ it was _good_ somehow _._ He fumbled with his sweatpants and groaned loudly when he wrapped a hand around his cock, he was so fucking _hard_ because of this, it was all so _good_ but it _shouldn’t be good there’s a fucking dick in your mouth -_

Dipper heard Bill huff a laugh and then it was _fast too fast,_ his cock was hitting the back of his throat and it _hurt,_ his jaw ached and his gag reflex was an ever-growing threat but _fuck,_ he kind of _wanted_ it. He could practically feel Bill looking down at him with his yellow eyes narrowed into slits and - _and I want that, I want this, I want it -_

“You want it?” Bill asked, his voice tight. “You want me to fuck you?”

 _Yes._ Even Dipper’s mental voice was close to wrecked. _Please, fuck me, please._

“You’re getting so _obedient.”_ Shame hovered ever-present beneath the haze, gray-blue and insidious. Bill pulled out of Dipper’s mouth and he coughed, he could still _taste_ everything.

He rubbed at his jaw, his eyes still closed, and the bed shifted. He heard Bill rummaging through something, _looking for lube, I guess,_ and the thought only brought another pang of some lascivious anticipation.

The bed shifted again and then they were kissing, slower than before, hands all over each other. Bill pulled Dipper’s shirt over his head along with his own, pushed hair out of his face.

“Get on your hands and knees,” he murmured, and it was an order, and Dipper nodded and obeyed, still cringing at how _easy_ it was for him to be told what to do. He buried his face in the pillows between his hands, not wanting to see, not wanting to know, hating how submissive he was and how much it turned him on.

“I know you’ll accept our _relationship_ in time, I just don’t know how long it’ll take. You still hate yourself for this, don’t you?” Bill asked in mock sympathy. He popped the cap of the tube. “ _God forbid_ you sleep with me, a person who’s not even a _person._ Someone without _emotion._ Your own little personal dance with the devil.”

Dipper grimaced into the pillow and gasped noiselessly when Bill slid a slick finger inside him, his legs stiffening and his body shaking.

“You’re so _sensitive,_ look at this. I wonder if you could come with only my fingers inside of you.”

 _Shut up!_ Dipper snapped in the headspace, humiliated beyond belief, and _this fucking position doesn’t help,_ he felt painfully and obviously exposed.

“Oh, you’re getting so _riled up,_ that’s adorable. I wish I could hear _your_ voice, it’s pretty funny when you tell me to stop. _Hah!_ As if I’d listen.” Bill pressed a second finger inside him and he leaned back, wanting more but not wanting to think it, not yet sinking to that level.

Bill sighed theatrically. “You were so _good_ earlier, you _said_ you wanted me to fuck you, I’m not hearing too much of that now. How am I supposed to know if you want it unless you _tell_ me?”

_Because we can communicate mentally, you giant fuck._

“Well, that’s no fun, I want to hear your _real_ voice.” A third finger, and Dipper’s accompanying noise was again suppressed by the pillow. “Listening to you fall apart is just as much fun as watching. Turn your head to one side.”

_No._

“No, I think you want to turn your head so I can hear you.”

And Dipper really did, so he shifted his head to face the wall beneath the window.

 _Asshole, don’t control me like that,_ he thought angrily. Trying to turn back was no use, as there was an incessant voice in his mind that forced him to keep his head on its side.

“Then don’t make me _resort_ to controlling you. All you have to do is listen to me, listen to yourself.” Bill shoved his fingers deep inside Dipper and he whined briefly through his teeth.

“More?”

“More,” Dipper mumbled, and the word became a moan as Bill gripped his ass with his free hand and fucked into him almost _brutally_ with his fingers. Dipper’s knuckles were white as he held onto the bedsheets, his teeth bared as he struggled to repress any embarrassing sounds.

Bill pulled his fingers out after a few minutes and pressed a kiss to Dipper’s spine, his teeth lingering over the bump of a vertebra. “Beg.”

“ _Please,”_ Dipper spat out the word like poison. “Please, fuck - fuck me, please, _ah, fuck,”_ he gasped out the last two words when he felt teeth in the skin of his tattoo again, he wanted it so badly, but it was _Bill,_ _why does it have to be Bill?_  “ _Ow, fuck,_ please, I w - I want it, want you -”

“Mm, you’re getting better.” More slick sounds and Dipper shivered, his heart bounded in anticipation and he wanted to yell at it to _shut the fuck up, don’t want this, why do you want this, it's not even him, it's you -_

“Would it be easier for you to handle if I _was_ manipulating you?” Bill asked, amused. “Because I’m _always_ up for screwing around with your mind!”

“N - no, I -”

But then Dipper’s control was gone, _gone,_ he was stuttering out a series of “ _fuck, please, fuck me, I want you”_ and his mouth moved of its own accord, and when he first felt Bill’s cock inside of him he heard himself say “ _faster, now”_ and moan loudly when Bill bottomed out.

Then Dipper’s control was back, like a rush of cold air, and he gasped for breath. “What - what the fuck did y - you - what did y - _ah, f - fuck,”_ he couldn’t even _speak,_ Bill’s hands were leaving more bruises on his waist as he complied with _his own fucking request,_ he was fast it was _too good too fast stop I’m gonna c -_

“Well, we can’t have _that_ happening yet.” Bill slowed down, loosening his grip ever so slightly. “ _Really,_ though? _Already?”_ he asked, malicious and delighted. “I can’t believe I can _do_ this to you.”

“Shut up,” Dipper mumbled, turning his face back into the pillow. _Just fuck me and get this over with._

“Get this _over with?_ You’re gonna keep pretending you don’t want this? You can’t pin all the blame on me forever, you know,” Bill drawled. He leaned forward and nipped at Dipper’s shoulder, where the week-old bitemark was finally starting to scar. Dipper hunched his shoulders and arched his back in response.

Dipper felt one of Bill’s hands skim lightly down his back. “I haven’t marked you nearly enough. The world needs to know that you belong to me. _You_ need to know. _Damian_ needs to know,” Bill growled, his fingernails sharp in Dipper’s skin at the thought of the other demon.

 _Why do you keep bringing Damian into this?_ Dipper couldn’t help but grin a little into the pillow. _Why’re you thinking about him during sex, huh?_

Then Bill’s hand was yanking at his hair, pulling his head up, and fucking him harder, faster again and his yelp of pain cracked into a low whine, it was fucking _amazing,_ so much better than it should be, he _really wanted_ Bill inside of him, fucking him open, _claiming_ him -

Bill’s sudden laughter interrupted Dipper’s wild internal monologue. “Listen to _you,_ you really _like_ this, don’t you? D'you like that I've claimed you as _mine?”_

Dipper bit his lip hard to keep from answering, whether articulately or otherwise. His head still hurt from how hard Bill gripped his hair, but this pain was the same shade of red as the headspace and he didn’t _care._

Bill snapped his hips forward and he was so _deep,_ “I want an answer,” another fucking _order -_

“ _Yes,”_ Dipper gasped out, desperately pushing himself back so their bodies were pressed together, his hands tearing at the sheets, “yes, I like - I w - I want it, I like it, I like it, I l - like it,” his broken voice rambled on.

“Ah, _fuck,_ you’re so good.” Bill’s fingers dug sharply into Dipper’s waist and the headspace bloomed a bright shade of scarlet against the deep maroon haze. The emotions within were heavy, powerful enough to drown out all reason. Possession, perverse obsession, belonging.

“ _Hope_ Damian sees this,” Bill was muttering, “Hope he realizes that I _own_ you.” Dipper whimpered something that sounded like _please_ and Bill answered by somehow fucking him harder, every single one of his nerves was on fire, his limbs were shaking, he was so _hard._

“You’re _mine,_ little tree,” Bill hissed, his mouth on Dipper’s shoulder again, biting down hard enough for him to cry out. “ _Never_ anyone else’s. Never gonna let _anybody_ touch you like this.”

It should have made Dipper’s heart leap with panic and _fear_ at this possessiveness and something like _objectification_ but the headspace was so _loud,_ he just arched his back further and exhaled a soft _“Yes.”_

“Who’s allowed to touch you?” Bill asked teasingly, nipping at Dipper’s back and pressing his thumb into his tattoo.

“Y - _you,”_ Dipper panted out, nearly biting his tongue. “ _Ah,_ o - only you.”

“That’s _ri_ _ght,_ good, you’ve been paying attention.” The sneer in Bill’s voice was stifled by his harsh breathing. He slowed slightly, obviously getting tired, and the headspace raised its voice in protest.

Bill laughed once, his lips grazing Dipper’s shoulder blade. “Hey, this takes _effort._ You want more, you do the work. Do you want to _ride_ me?”

Dipper sucked in a deep breath and exhaled. “Yeah,” he mumbled, his voice cracking, the headspace was too loud for him to answer in any other way. “Yeah.”

“Good answer.” Bill pulled out of him and he resisted the urge to make some kind of noise, berating himself and his vocal chords. He kept his eyes closed as he struggled into a kneeling position, everything hurt like holy hell but he was still ridiculously hard.

“Okay, come here.” Reluctantly facing reality, Dipper opened his eyes and crawled over, adjusted himself, Bill’s hips between his knees. He tentatively reached for his cock, _this was inside me he’s been inside me_ and it was such an _odd_ thing to consider then and there.

Dipper grimaced and kept his gaze down, moved forward slightly, and cautiously lowered himself onto Bill’s cock, a soft noise escaping past his teeth when he sat back against Bill’s legs and rested his hands on his stomach. He shut his eyes tightly and rocked himself forward, his breath hitching in his throat, then back, exhaling a moan. Again, again, again.

Bill’s hands on his hips again, “There you go, yeah, _fuck,_ there you go.” Dipper winced in embarrassment as he moved a little faster, _I can’t believe I’m actually doing this, this has to be one of my dreams, this can’t be real, it can’t be real -_

“Quit daydreaming, kid, geez.” Bill’s grip on him tightened as he pushed hard on Dipper’s nerves and Dipper threw back his head, gasping for breath, _fuck why is this so good, I can’t - I can’t want this, can’t like this,_ _it's Bill,_ but the great roaring need was thundering away in the headspace and he rocked his hips forward and back in a hard rhythm, biting his lip to keep from shouting out.

 _It’s good because you love me fucking you._ Bill shoved Dipper down onto his cock and he choked out a moan. _Just admit that to yourself, little tree._

Dipper shook his head slightly but kept moving. His face was brilliantly red, his hair was a tangled mess, his whole body trembled. _No, I’m - no._

_Get off._

Dipper frowned but complied, getting up onto weak legs and stumbling off to one side, laying down. _Why -_

“Gotta kiss you,” was Bill’s blunt explanation before he pushed Dipper’s legs up and fucked into him, exhaling when he bottomed out. Dipper couldn’t even open his mouth before they were kissing again, hard and demanding, their teeth clicking together with every sharp movement and Dipper’s bottom lip was bleeding and they were bruising each other. Bill’s hands were on the sides of Dipper’s head and his own wrapped around Bill’s neck and they were so _close,_ so close together, the headspace felt stronger than ever.

“Say it,” Bill growled, pulling away just to speak.

“I - I love y - you fucking m - me,” Dipper mumbled, his eyes closed, ashamed at his own lack of willpower. “I want it - _fuck,_ I’m - _shit,_ fuck me harder, harder, _please.”_

And Bill listened, fucked into him harder until every breath was a desperate sound, his hands scrabbling at Bill’s shoulders, hardly reacting as he sucked bright, obvious hickeys into his neck and chest.

“Come when I say so.” The words were pressed into Dipper’s throat, more vibration than sound, and he nodded frantically, whispering _“Yes”_ more times than needed.

Bill’s movements grew more and more erratic, he was swearing violently and breathlessly, and the headspace was burning itself up, some great star about to supernova. Everything was almost _too_ intense, too much, too much -

_Tell me you’re mine._

“I’m y - yours, I’m yours, I’m yo - _yours, yours,”_ Dipper gasped out, his head thrown back, his voice completely wrecked, he _believed_ the words he said -

“No one else, just mine, you’re _mine,”_ Bill snarled, sinking his teeth into Dipper’s neck. He hissed out a last curse, his hands digging into Dipper’s legs, and slammed against him a final time when he came, the headspace exploding and very briefly whiting out before the haze was back.

“Please,” Dipper managed to say, still clinging to Bill’s shoulders, “can I -”

“Come.”

And it was enough, it was more than enough, Dipper couldn’t even hear himself as he came, the thrumming of the headspace’s final whiteout was too loud and too _good_ and it didn’t matter, anyway, because only a few broken moans and pleads escaped before Bill was kissing him again and everything was their mouths and their skin pressed together.

It took minutes before they disentangled themselves from each other, still breathing heavily. Dipper tried to sit up and found he couldn’t even _move,_ he was still trembling all over and he felt almost completely numb from the waist down.

Bill was less affected; he sat back on his knees and pushed his hair out of his face, looking tired but not as exhausted as Dipper was, both physically and mentally.

It took another few minutes for either of them to say anything, in the headspace or out.

“You suck,” Dipper grumbled weakly, still not moving.

Bill looked over at him, surprised, then burst out laughing. “ _That’s_ all you’re going to say?” he asked, his voice a little shot but otherwise sounding normal.

“S’ all that needs to be said. Help me up.”

Bill just flopped down next to him, wrapping an arm around his chest and kissing his neck. “Why? You wanna go back upstairs? Don’t be stupid, you should sleep.”

“And I have a perfectly good bed upstairs that I can sleep _in,”_ Dipper retorted, though in all reality he was reluctant to get up, he wasn’t actually sure if he could _walk_ and - he thought with some irritability - he liked this post-sex sort-of-cuddling. “Now that my mind’s safe, I want to - I just want to sleep.”

“Then sleep here. C’mon, little tree, I’m not gonna do anything _bad_ to you.”

“I don’t trust that.”

Bill scoffed and rolled over. “You’re so _stubborn._ It’s good for the headspace for us to be close, y’know. Improves the connection.” He tapped his head with a finger.

“I don’t think I want this connection to be any stronger,” Dipper said dryly, but his argument had no real foundation and they both knew it.

He heaved a sigh. “ _Fine._ I’ll sleep here. Just don’t - don’t do anything weird.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

There had been a single lamp on in the room for the last hour or so, and now it flicked off, leaving them in total darkness. This was enough for Bill to settle into sleep, as his presence faded from the recovering headspace only a few minutes later.

It took Dipper a while longer; he was a little busy reflecting on the night, how _help me get rid of my nightmares_ somehow turned into sex, and how he had somehow become friends-with-benefits - enemies-with-benefits? - with  _Bill Cipher_ of all fucking people. He  _hated_ that he wanted him, but keeping up the façade of belligerence was getting tiring. It would be easier to just admit to being attracted to Bill and moving on from there, but their history was still too present. It was still too  _weird._ The whole situation was just empirically weird.

To test Bill's theory he rolled over and shifted closer to him. He had been right, the headspace was practically _glowing._ The pains in the lower half of his body and in his head began to ease away. He felt a flicker of discomfort when he remembered Damian, but pushed that thought aside.  _That's creepy as fuck and all, but we can tackle that later._

He rested in sleepless silence for a few more minutes, his brain working overtime as it usually did.

 _Fine,_ he thought in frustration, pushing everything out of the headspace with significant effort. He chanced a look off to his side; Bill’s eyebrows were furrowed slightly in his sleep. _Fine. I don’t know what we are yet, but I guess I’ll just fucking deal with it._ _  
_

For the first time in a week, Dipper slept with his soulmate and without his nightmares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **edited 12.4.17.  
>  edited warnings 12.4.17**


	17. Chapter Sixteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dialogue, dialogue, dialogue.

For the fifth day in a row, Dipper wished it had been any season but summer. He wanted nothing more than to change into a T-shirt, but there were at least eight reasons why he couldn’t do that. Eight very colorful reasons.

“Thanks for visiting!” he called out the door, waving as the last visitors walked back to their cars, a fake smile plastered on his face. After an appropriate amount of time, he closed the door and slumped against it, groaning loudly.

“Agreed,” said Mabel dully as she stumbled into the main room. “Today _sucked._ Did you see that one kid who -”

“Yeah, he got me too. We should put a sign up, ‘no water guns in the shack.’”

“And especially no water guns filled with _coke._ Eugh. I’m gonna change.” She frowned at him. “Why’re you wearing a button down?? It’s like 90 degrees, how are you _alive?”_

“Er, strong constitution? I guess?”

She shook her head at him and left through the door to the house part of the shack.

 _I think you should_ flaunt _them._

 _Shut up, I don’t want my sister to see these stupid hickeys, she’d start asking questions._ Dipper headed for the wonderfully air-conditioned lounge. He sat on the couch and telekinetically turned the TV on. Using magic on a regular basis was practically second nature at that point, though he was still struggling with offensive and defensive magic. He had only recently started to get the hang of spatial manipulation, but he didn’t dare mess with that inside the house.

He switched over to Netflix. _Why are a billion Disney channel shows in my recommended list?_ He checked his history. _Are you watching Hannah Montana under my name??_

_Hey, I’m very invested in Lily and Oliver’s relationship._

_Weirdo. What’re you even doing? Have you left your room at all today?_

_I’ve been thinking._

_Nice change of pace._

_About Damian._

_And you didn’t break anything? Good for you._

_I replaced that chair._

_You did replace the chair. Well, I haven’t had nightmares for the last few days, but I’m not sure if that’s because of the protection ritual or because of the borders you put up, or maybe because he just stopped sending them to me._

The day after Bill was finally declared relatively immune to salt, the three of them drove out to the city limits and scattered the consecrated salt, then performed the ritual needed to bind its protective powers to a single area. While the protection had a time limit, it still left them feeling safer, and gave them time to prepare just in case Damian did figure out where they lived.

_The protection I gave to you should be wearing off soon, so then we’ll be able to tell. You’ll be pleased to know that I haven’t sensed Damian’s presence at all in your mind._

_That’s a relief._

_For you and him. I have a lot planned for when we catch up to him._ Grisly images flickered through the headspace and Dipper shoved them away.

 _Isn’t going looking for him exactly what he wants?_ Dipper pointed out.

_Well, yeah, but -_

_So don’t be an idiot, wait for him to come to us, don’t charge off and end up getting killed. I’ve come to enjoy having disposable income and another person in the house who can cook._

_And a fuckbuddy._

_Sure._ Dipper crossed his legs. _And before you ask, no._

_It’s been five days -_

_And I’m still sore, so back off._

Thankfully, Bill dropped the subject. _Eh, we have more pressing matters. We never found out about the tattoo._

Dipper frowned. He had completely forgotten about the tattoo in the wake of all that had happened. _You’re right. Damian obviously knew, it was after you told him it was your tattoo that he flipped out…_

_So it must be related to demons._

_Yeah. But...okay, that makes sense, but how did he know it was you? He called you by name after that._

The humming of the headspace came to a stop.

_For the love of all that exists._

_What?_ Dipper asked, sitting up straight.

_Of course. Of course. I can’t believe I’d forgotten - okay, so, back when the universe was new, yadda yadda yadda, we all were assigned names and houses. Our names were supposed to be universal, known across all cultures, communities, whatever. But then humans suddenly had all these different languages and dialects, so we ended up going by whatever name we were called in the dominant language of the area we occupied._

_So...your name isn’t your real name._

_It’s a common name. English name. Got a different name in French, Spanish, Portuguese, Vietnamese...lots of names. But considering I’ve been involving myself with the United States for the last hundred-odd years, I’ve been sticking with my English name. As for my true name,_ yeesh, _I haven’t heard that thing since, like, at least 10,000 BCE, maybe even earlier. We’ve been calling each other by our common names for millennia, I don’t even remember my true name, it was like…_ Bill made a series of odd sounds. _Something like that. Weird ancient language. So outdated._

_That’s all actually really cool, but why -_

_Maybe that’s what the tattoo says. In fact, I’m convinced that’s what it is._

Dipper leaned back and stared at the wooden ceiling, gears clicking behind his eyes. _Oh my God, of course, how did we not think of this before??_ He ran a hand through his hair, scratching at his scalp in anger. _Of course it’s your_ name, _how could it be anything but your fucking_ name, _if we’d just used our fucking brains we wouldn’t be in this whole demon blood feud mess -_

 _It must be like a_ label _of sorts._

_Oh yeah, that’s necessary. Which demon did you put in a human body? Better put their name on it just to make sure you got the right one! God, this is stupid. Who even - ??_

_Who knows._

_It’s got to have some kind of other significance._

_Probably. No clue what it could be, though._ The headspace was still churning with thoughts of revenge.

_Will you just focus?? I don’t care how badly you want to dismember Damian and throw his limbs into four different oceans, this is more important._

_You want focus? Get an order demon. Most violence is chaos._

_Right, because I had a choice in the matter._

_You’re_ snippy _today. I thought you were sleeping fine._

_I am. Work just sucked._

_Aw, what happened?_ Bill condoled, exaggerating his sympathy.

 _One kid sprayed me with a water gun full of coke, and then this single mom kept hitting on me, and she was at least 20 years older than me - why am I even_ telling _you this, you_ saw _everything_.

 _I know. But it’s more personal to_ talk _about things, don’t you think? I can tell you about my day -_

_You sat in bed and watched Law & Order for eight straight hours. _

_No regrets. I finished Dexter yesterday, I needed something else to watch._

_I can see why you’d enjoy Dexter,_

_Have you seen it? You like mysteries, don’t you?_

_Not a fan of blood and gore._

_Right. Wimp._

_I’m not a wimp, that stuff’s just gross._

_You’ve seen so many creatures and people die, though._

_Doesn’t mean I enjoyed any of it. And I’ve never seen a_ person _die, that Donald Trump effigy was just really realistic, thanks to that forest witch._

_Oh yeah, I was thinking about..something else. Also, you're welcome, that was fun to destroy. Can we go out tonight?_

_Go out where, exactly?_

_I dunno, barhopping? Clubbing? Robbing a liquor store? Breaking into a -_

_Okay, no to all of those things._

A loud sigh. _You’re so_ boring, _Pine Tree. You partied in college,_ Bill pointed out. _You had so many stories._

_Yeah, like once a term. Except for junior year, that was crazy. But that was just because my friends were all crazy. Can we get back to the tattoo? That’s kind of the biggest revelation we’ve had since the salt thing._

_I guess, but what are we supposed to do_ now? _Damian’s the only person we know who has any idea of the significance of the name._

Dipper stood up, cracking his back, and headed upstairs. _Maybe not. I’ll do some research._

_Figures you’d rather do that than go out and party. You sure you don’t -_

Yes, _I’m very sure._

Dipper had a tiring sense of deja vu as he began to scour the internet for answers. _Immortal language_ gave him some results, _demon language_ significantly less. His search words grew more and more broad as he continued to find absolutely nothing of relevance.

This went on for a good few very frustrating hours before Mabel called him downstairs to help her with dinner. He absentmindedly chopped vegetables while she talked about anything that seemed to come to mind. If he tuned her out for even a second the topic would be completely different.

After a while, his internal arguments and questions burned themselves out and he ended up listening to her complaining about how much she hated the ending of Friends.

“I mean, how much better would it have been if Rachel was a lesbian?? It would’ve changed the whole series. I mean, they probably wouldn’t’ve made one of the main characters gay because it was the 90s, but just...imagine. _Oh,_ imagine if Rachel and _Monica_ ended up together! I would _cry._ _Anyway,_ how’re things between you and Bill? I haven’t heard much fighting, but I’m sure you fight a lot mentally, so -

“We’re, uh, we’re fine. I guess.” Dipper cleared his throat. “We’re, uh, fighting less.”

“That’s good!” Mabel snickered. “Don’t tell him this, but I think he _likes_ you.”

 _There’s a shocker._ “Really??” Dipper shook his head and tossed a knife in the sink with a clatter. “What makes you say that?” he asked innocently. One of the bitemarks stung briefly.

“I dunno, he’s just so...he like...he _orbits_ you." Mabel made a vague gesture. "But you kinda do the same thing with him.”

“I’m pretty sure you stole that from Twilight.”

“Regardless! And how d’ _you_ know that’s from Twilight?” Mabel accused, poking her brother in the side as she passed him to strain noodles in the sink.

“I just - I know lots of things. I mean, soul bonds make people closer, that’s just a fact -”

“- and he looks at you like you’re, like, I dunno. Like you’re the only person in the room, like nothing else matters.”

Dipper mentally reached out and poked Bill’s side of the headspace. _Listen to this._ “ It’s more likely he’s under the misconception that _he’s_ the only person in the room that matters.”

Mabel laughed. “Aw, he’s not _that_ self-centered, is he?”

“Look, we’ve had _many_ discussions on the emotional capabilities of demons, and they’re _all_ self-centered. They have a legitimately really difficult time understanding that things matter other than themselves. They only do nice things when they want something in return, that’s how it works. They’re like loan sharks.”

Bill had started listening in. _You’re so rude. Not inaccurate, though._

“I think he can be nice!”

“You can be nice without being _nice,_ Mabes, or do you not remember your entire friendship with Taylor McDevitt?”

Mabel rolled her eyes. “Okay, okay, but still!”

“Well, I don’t feel like getting into a discussion on Bill’s morality. I think I complain to him about that on the daily.”

“Good, then let’s get back to how I think he’s into you.”

“What are you basing this off of?” Dipper asked with a slightly nervous laugh, _oh god I really hope she hasn’t heard anything or seen anything._ His hand reflexively flew to his neck, where his shirt collar barely hid a bright purple hickey and a rather large, red bite mark, then hastily made it look like he was scratching an itch when Mabel shot him a suspicious look.

_You can’t hide those forever, you know._

_I can try._

“All that stuff I said! _C’mooon,_ is it that hard to believe?” Mabel punched Dipper’s arm as she walked back over to the fridge. She paused and wrinkled her nose. “I _really_ hope he wasn’t into you when we were, like, kids, though, that’d be...weird, to say the least.”

“Not possible, demons can only feel attraction in human forms,” Dipper replied absentmindedly as he focused on chopping beets without hacking off a finger.

“ _Aha!_ So you’ve _talked_ about this!” said Mabel triumphantly, clapping her hands on Dipper’s shoulders. He jumped and nearly dropped the knife.

 _Checkmate, Pine Tree,_ Bill thought, laughing.

“Hey! Currently holding a sharp object!” Dipper warned.

Mabel’s self-satisfied grin stretched ear to ear when she set her elbows on the counter and looked up at him. “ _Sooo,_ why were you talking about _attraction?”_

“It - it came up in conversation,” said Dipper feebly, waving the knife. “Demon psychology, all that, very fascinating, _oh,_ that reminds me - we figured out the tattoo.”

The teasing expression was gone from her face in an instant. “Really? You’re serious?? How?” she demanded.

Dipper gave a hasty explanation of demon language. “And Bill thinks it’s his _name,_ like, his ‘true name’ that’s on his neck. Which explains how Damian knew who he was.”

Mabel had a similar reaction to her brother; she combed her hair back from her forehead and rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Oh my gosh, _duh,_ how’d we not think of that sooner?? Mysterious tattoo in a buncha weird ancient symbols, how did we not _immediately_ think ‘name?’”

“I have no idea. We’re dumb.”

“I guess so. You done with those beets?”

“Er, almost.”

Mabel turned on the stove. “So now what?? I mean, we’ve got defenses set up for at least another week, but then…?”

“I don’t know, honestly. But we need to come up with something.”

Mabel nodded, her jaw set. “After dinner, strategy meeting. Lounge. 8 o’clock sharp.”

“Yes ma’am.” _You hear that? Family strategy meeting._

_Yeah, yeah,_

_Are you coming out for dinner? Can you even move?_

_I’ll make an attempt._

_You’re so lazy. Remember when you were full of boundless energy?_

_Breaking things and pissing you off at every opportunity, you mean?_

_...ugh. True. Still, you can’t sit in bed all day._

_I’m almost done with this season -_

_Get out here._

An exaggerated sigh. _Fine._

“TV’s a better outlet than him trashing the entire house, I guess,” Dipper muttered, exasperated.

“What?” Mabel asked as she passed him yet again to get to the fridge.

“Oh, just complaining. He hasn’t left his room all day.”

“While we’re working our butts off?? That’s just not fair, I’m making him do housework tomorrow,” Mabel grumbled. She shook some salt into the sizzling pan on the stove.

“Just don’t leave him alone with fragile things, remember when he was magically juggling all those glasses?” Dipper commented, heading for the fridge and grabbing a beer.

“In his defense, he _was_ a little drunk.”

“How is that _in his defense,_ he was the one who decided to make a hobby out of inventing new cocktails -”

“Is this _all_ you talk about when I’m not around?” Bill stood in the doorway, his hands on the walls, looking wounded. He shook his head tragically. “How _awful_ I am?”

“It’s not that you’re _awful,_ you’re just ridiculous,” Dipper replied, and they exchanged a mutually deadpan look with each other.

Mabel coughed loudly. “Why don’t you guys go out and wait?” she said innocently. “I can finish up in here.” She gave Dipper a very overt wink that he ignored.

Bill headed out with no argument; Dipper turned to his sister and hissed, “He tried to _destroy our family,”_ before following him. He heard Mabel stifle a giggle.

_I guess your sister never grew out of matchmaking._

_No, she did that all through college. Kept trying to find me girlfriends. I actually did meet Jade because of her, they played volleyball together, so that was one success of hers._

_Not really a success, you broke up._

_Well, she was gonna spend a whole semester in Germany and then go to grad school there, and long distance sucks. So it would have been a success except for that, I guess._

_Any luck with the research?_

_I’ve got nothing._ Dipper sighed in frustration and fell onto the couch, his legs draped over the end. _This is seriously the worst. What are we even gonna do once the defensive barrier fades?_

 _Fight him,_ Bill thought, glancing over at Dipper with a “ _duh”_ expression.

_Yeah, okay, sure, we both nearly died last time but no, great, let’s do that again. Good plan. Love it._

_Hilarious. I’m serious, though. I just need to train you more, teach you more offensive magic._

_Didn’t Damian say he has an immortal body? Does that just mean he can’t age, or does it also mean he can’t die?_

_Nnnot sure. This hasn’t happened in a while, and I didn’t know the last guy. I know he’s still around, though. He’s been human for a_ loooong _time._ Bill wrinkled his nose. _Does_ not _sound fun._

 _Never anyone from your house?_ Dipper asked, turning onto his side.

 _Nope. Maybe something happened in the last fifty years or so. I’ve really only kept in contact with a few of them. The ones that don’t, y’know, hate me for embarrassing the entire house. Known those guys forever._ Bill absentmindedly rubbed the back of his neck where the tattoo stood dark against his skin.

Dipper frowned. _Wait, fifty years? So they banished you when -_

_\- I failed to get your great uncle to open a portal to my realm, yep. It was kinda the last straw after what happened in France._

_Wow._

They sat in silence for a bit and listened to Mabel hum pop songs from the kitchen.

 _Back to Damian. Is it possible he can’t die?_ Dipper asked anxiously.

_Yes._

“Shit,” he swore quietly. _You’re serious?_

_Yep._

_Then what do we do?_

Bill yawned and shrugged. _Dunno. Again, I’ve never had this problem._

“ _Ugh,”_ Dipper complained out loud, rolling onto his back again. “I thought you were supposed to be omnipotent.”

“Uh, I am.”

“Well you sure aren’t sounding like it -”

“Oh, like _you_ can contribute.”

“At least I’m trying!”

“Guys, stop fighting!” Mabel shouted from the kitchen. “And come eat!”

Throwing disgruntled looks at each other, they headed for the dining room.

 

The menial conversation of dinner preceded the discussion that followed. The sun was only just starting to set when they gathered around the coffee table in the lounge, their expressions grim. Even Mabel had a serious air about her as she knelt on the floor wearing her too-big pink sweater.

“Okay, get me up to speed,” said Mabel, clapping her hands and glancing between the other two. “I know you talk mentally, like, all the time, so I’m sure I’m out of the loop on _some_ thing.”

“Well, you know about the tattoo thing, how we think it’s his name,” Dipper began. “But the question is about its significance. Like, why would the name of a demon show up on the body they take on? Is it just for demons to tell each other apart from normal humans? Is there something else? We don’t know.”

“We’re also not sure about what exactly Damian’s body is capable of,” Bill continued. “It’s an immortal body, but _immortal_ has so many implications. We know he can’t age, but he can get injured, which I know because I stabbed him and broke a few of his bones.” He grinned slightly, self-satisfied. “ _Very_ gratifying. _However,_ we don’t know if he can _die.”_

Mabel was visibly alarmed. “Wait, wait, so that Damian guy might be, like, _undefeatable?”_

Dipper shrugged. “It’s possible,” he said grimly.

Mabel ran a hand through her hair and made a _pbbft_ noise, staring down at the grain of the table. “ _Geez._ So not only is he determined to kill you,” she said, nodding at Bill, “but we wouldn’t even be able to beat him if he found out where we live??”

“If he’s immortal in that sense of the word. But we can’t tell for sure,” Dipper said hastily, not wanting her to get too freaked out.

Bill reclined and rolled his head, cracking his neck loudly. “Unfortunately, the only way to really _tell_ if he’s immortal in that way or not is to challenge him directly. While I would _love_ to run at him guns a’blazing and beat him into a bloody pulp, I’ve been told that that’s a stupid plan. _So,_ other ideas? No? Didn’t think so. Back to square one.”

“Wait, hang on.” Dipper held up a hand. “Maybe I can do some research on that, I’m sure there’s something like that on one of the websites I’ve found information on. In fact, I think I remember something about immortality.”

“Fine, fine, look through your little books.” Bill waved his hand. “Sometimes I can’t stand you intellectuals. You and Sixer and all those papers - boring! Too much focus on the theoretical and not enough on the practical, the _literal,_ could be your undoing, little tree. ‘Idle hands are the devil’s workshop,’” he quipped, grinning, all of his pointed teeth showing.

Dipper pointedly looked away from him and shoved his suddenly wildly inappropriate thoughts out of the headspace. “Hey, books are useful. I wouldn’t have known what to do about _you_ without books.”

“Hang on,” Mabel interrupted, frowning. “You can’t just, like, exorcise him, right?”

Dipper shook his head. “It’s a body that was created exclusively for him, so, no, that wouldn’t do anything.” He paused, an idea forming. “Wait, couldn’t I -”

“No,” Bill replied to Dipper’s thought, which had preceded his words. “That only works if a demon isn’t occupying a corporeal form.”

“Damn, okay.” He heaved a sigh. “That was my last idea.” He leaned backward and fell onto the carpet, looking at the screen door behind him upside-down.

“I hate this,” said Mabel, sounding both frustrated and scared. “What if we can’t figure it out? What do we do?”

“We can use me as bait.” The words were out of Dipper’s mouth before he realized what he was saying.

There was a brief silence in which the headspace brimmed purple in a mild surprise and Mabel said nothing, then -

“Are you _crazy?? Bait_ yourself??” she demanded. “Dip, this is _really_ not the time to play the martyr!”

“He’s got a point, though,” said Bill, nodding. “If Damian went anywhere near _you,_ he would have a problem _very_ fast.”

Dipper sat up, a plan forming. “Yeah, and then we could _both_ ambush him -”

“Whoa, time out!” Mabel made a “T” with her hands and frowned over at Bill. “What’dya mean Damian would have a problem?”

Bill and Dipper exchanged another incredulous look.

 _You haven’t told her about the claim? For shame, I thought you two told each other everything,_ Bill accused, shaking his head.

 _I don’t want her knowing about that! And you_ _already_ know _I haven’t told her yet!_

‘ _Course, but now’s a good time to guilt you on it. She hates it when you keep secrets like this from her. It makes her feel like you don’t trust her, and you don’t want that, do you? There’s already a rift between you two because of our connection, why widen it?_

Dipper glared at him. _God, I fucking hate you._

“Guys! Why would Damian have a problem?” Mabel repeated impatiently.

“Because you’re basically my family and I don’t want to see you injured,” said Bill innocently, his yellow eyes wide.

Mabel stared at him in surprise, then clasped her hands together, her mouth a tiny O. “ _Really??”_

“Oh my God,” Dipper grumbled, rolling his eyes.

Mabel tugged on his sleeve. “See?? _See??_ We  _are_ a family!!” She punched Bill in the shoulder and he winced. “S _ure_ you can’t feel human emotions! You _liar._ ”

“He can’t, don’t listen to him,” said Dipper monotonously. _Don’t take advantage of her for seeing good in people. You’re literally the biggest douchebag, leave her alone._

 _Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’m telling the truth, since you obviously can’t._ “Okay, it’s not exactly that. I have a claim on your family.”

“Er, a what?” Mabel asked, mildly suspicious.

Bill shrugged. “It just means that, in immortal terms, your family is under my jurisdiction. Other demons are forbidden from approaching you or contacting you or even _looking_ at you without my permission, and attempted assault is punishable by death,” he said casually. “Ergo, if Damian went after either of _you,_ ” _you more so than her, but she doesn’t have to know that,_ “it would be socially acceptable to kill him, and I would probably take advantage of his little _faux pas_ to do just that.”

Mabel just stared at him, her mouth slightly open.

Dipper patted her on the shoulder. “Yeah, it’s pretty weird.”

She rounded on him. “You _knew_ about this and you didn’t tell me??”

He shied away. “Sorry! I - I didn’t know how to describe it to you!” he explained feebly. “It’s - it’s all weird demon stuff -”

“I - okay. Okay. So we” - Mabel gestured to Dipper and herself - “are, like, ‘your people?’”

“Pretty much.”

 _See, you sound way less creepy when you explain it like this,_ Dipper pointed out. _Why d’you act all possessive and weird with_ me?

Bill’s mouth twitched. _Because you like it._

_I’m gonna punch you in the face._

“And Damian is breaking a million demon laws by even trying to find us?”

“Yep.”

“ _Ugh!_ Then why aren’t other demons doing anything??” Mabel demanded. “Don’t you have, like, police? A justice system??”

Bill was obviously trying not to laugh. “It’s really not that simple, ‘Star -”

“Why _not?”_

“It’s kind of a _mano a mano_ thing. It’s my problem, so I solve it. Nobody likes to be dragged into somebody else’s disputes. Happened to me once, _that_ was thirty years I’m never getting back.” He pushed bangs out of his face. “Your problem, ‘Star, is that you’re trying to equate my realm to this one. Comparing demons to humans isn’t going to get you anywhere. We’re _way_ different. We don’t act like people because _we’re not people._ You were _just_ reminded of this.”

She shifted, sitting with her knees in front of her. “I know. I just - I know. Okay. It’s just gonna take some getting used to, I guess. Our family is owned by a demon, that’s _fine._ ”

Dipper patted her on the shoulder again and shook his head at Bill. _Can you try to like, not be a dick for once?_

“I’m telling the truth! Humans are so sensitive! Yeesh. Can we get back to the initial discussion? I particularly liked the idea someone mentioned about me beating Damian to a bloody pulp and _you_ acting as bait.” He pointed at Dipper.

Dipper sighed. “I’d do it if it meant Damian wouldn’t be a threat anymore.”

“Great! Then we can start formulating that plan.” Bill hopped to his feet and headed for the kitchen. “Anybody want a beer?” Dipper gestured to himself. “Alright.”

Once Bill had left, Mabel turned to her brother and hissed, “You are _not_ doing that. We’ve had this talk a million times, Dip, you have to get over this martyr complex, nobody needs saving! _I_ don’t need saving!”

“Okay, look, there’s a multitude of reasons why it should be me. One, Damian’s already seen me, he knows who I am. Two, I already know a lot of magic. Three, I’m more experienced in this stuff,” he listed off, counting on his fingers.

“Well, it’s not _my_ fault you don’t bring me along!” Mabel retorted.

“I - okay, yeah, but still -”

“You think it’s easy for me to see you in these situations?? I _hate_ it! This isn’t happening,” she said with an air of finality. “You’re not doing it, and neither am I. We’ll find a different solution.”

Dipper held up his hands in surrender. “Alright, plan is officially cancelled, big red X through it. Nobody’s gonna be demon bait. We good?”

“We good,” Mabel agreed.

They stared into space for a few seconds, the only noise in the room the soft hum of the air conditioner and the occasional chirp of a wayward cricket.

Mabel sighed and rested her head on the table. “I kinda _wish_ we could just all gang up on Damian and punch him until he gave up, but that probably won’t work, will it.”

“I doubt it. We need something more, er, refined than physical violence.” Dipper fell over onto his back again, thinking.

Mabel chewed on her lip. “If only we could talk to Ford about this, I bet _he’d_ have some answers for us. But then we’d be in trouble.”

“He would be _pissed._ He’d be a little impressed, but he’d be pissed,” said Dipper, shaking his head and laughing. “‘Summoning demons, Dipper? _Again?_ This is the third time this month!’ Remember that?”

_I remember that. I’ll have you know I was personally offended._

_What, because I didn’t summon_ you? _Sorry if I didn’t feel like putting up with your bullshit more than usual that summer._

“I _do_ remember that, wasn’t that -”

“- Swimpocalypse 2016, yes.” The twins both shuddered. Dipper made a face. “And _that’s_ why none of us are allowed back into Yellowstone.”

“Or Crater Lake,” Mabel added.

“Right, that too. Why do all of our family vacations go so very wrong?”

“Who knows. Man! I _really_ wish we could talk to Ford, I’m sure he’s dealt with something like this, or at least he’s read about it. But, yeah, he’d kill us if he knew about…”

Dipper pointed to the kitchen. “That.”

 _Really? We’re still calling me_ that? _It was a fun week, but I thought we were over it._

Mabel giggled. “Yeah, _that._ Well, he’d kill Bill. Then he’d yell us into oblivion. _Hah,_ kill Bill.”

 _Have you seen that movie?_ Dipper asked, laughing. _It’s got gratuitous violence, I think you would like it._

_Please, I was hanging out with Tarantino before he even came up with the plot. Why do you think the guy’s called Bill? Think about it._

_Why has it taken you five minutes to get beer?_

_Trying to decide on a snack._

_Hurry up, I’m thirsty._

Dipper cleared his throat. “But we can’t drag anybody else into this,” he said firmly. “The more people who know, the more people we’re putting in danger. The less people aware of our situation at all, the better.”

Then, the doorbell rang.

The twins looked at each other in confusion. “Did you invite somebody?” they asked in unison, then replied “No” simultaneously.

“We’ve been closed for hours, it can’t be -”

“No, and not the mail either…”

Mabel got to her feet; her legs were shaking. “It can’t be - _him,_ right?”

Dipper shook his head forcefully. “No, no way in hell, the borders are up, it’s not possible for him to be here. Plus, I really don’t think he’d ring the doorbell -”

“I’ll get it.” She hurried over to the door, her feet soft on the carpeted and wooden floor, then took a deep breath and opened it.

She _shrieked,_ and Dipper jumped to his feet, a ball of magic already forming in his hand, his heart already leaping into his throat -

But the name she exclaimed was the absolute last person he would expect to show up at the shack at almost 9 o’clock at night.

“Pacifica!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **last edited: 3.17.16**
> 
> i've doodled a bit more for dm; [here's](http://smolskey.tumblr.com/post/134449846919/skeyart-ill-have-u-know-i-cried-real-tears) the matching sweaters i mentioned two chapters ago bc i couldnt resist drawing it, and [this](https://twitter.com/smolskye/status/658362933961842688) is a dumb sketch i made after i hit 420 kudos.
> 
> i've also been lucky enough to get fanart!! from my good friend [becca](https://twitter.com/hipstertomatoe/status/654423806472142848) (who proofreads dm and keeps yall from reading utter garbage) and from [twitter user beothebunny](https://twitter.com/beothebunny/status/657252187278434304)!!  
> i'm blown away by how much support i've gotten for dm. thank you all so much.


	18. Chapter Seventeen

The young blonde woman stood on the front step wearing a white cardigan over a lavender dress, her formerly long hair cropped short and her face a little more angular but otherwise the same person they had last seen four years ago.

Pacifica had barely started to say hello before Mabel threw her arms around her, nearly knocking her over.

“I can’t believe you’re here! You should’ve texted me and told me you were home!” said Mabel, beaming up at her friend.

Pacifica laughed a little awkwardly and managed to detach herself from Mabel. “Well, my dad bought me a new phone for my birthday and I lost all my contacts, I probably should’ve Facebook messaged you or something but - yeah, I’m home!”

“You’re home!” Mabel hugged her again and Pacifica was able to hug her back now that the wind wasn’t getting knocked out of her. “It’s so good to see you! I _love_ your hair, holy crap, when did _this_ happen?” Mabel demanded, gesturing at her.

Pacifica ran a hand through her hair. “Early this year. I had a bob for a while, but I decided to go shorter, and I haven’t looked back, honestly, I love it. You’re still growing yours out?”

Mabel reached for her own hair, which easily touched her waist. “Meh, I’m keeping it at this length, any longer and it’s just an inconvenience, but oh man, come in, come in!” She practically dragged Pacifica inside and shut the door behind her.

Once Dipper had heard Pacifica speak, he had hastily cut off the magic he was channeling and sat on the couch, trying to look casual. He groped for his beer bottle on the coffee table and remembered it was empty.

“So where’s your brother? You guys live together, right?” Pacifica asked; she kicked off her shoes and dropped a few inches, though she was still slightly taller than Mabel.

Dipper waved his hand. “Right here. Hi.”

She glanced around and spotted him. “Hi! So -”

“Sit down, we have so much catching up to do!” said Mabel excitedly. Looking bemused, Pacifica allowed Mabel to usher her into a chair.

She gestured at the empty beer bottles. “I thought you didn’t drink, Mabel.”

Mabel waved her hand. “Oh, no, I don’t.”

Pacifica raised an eyebrow at Dipper. “So -”

“No, no, those aren’t “ - Dipper coughed - “those are _not_ all mine, we -”

“Okay, I have more beer, also I put some popcorn in the microwave,” said Bill absentmindedly as he came back from the kitchen, looking at his phone. “So, for the thing with Da -”

“- _hey,_ okay, Pacifica, this is our roommate!” said Dipper loudly. She turned around and surveyed Bill with polite interest.

He looked up and then down at her in surprise, then nodded to her and set everything down on the coffee table before shaking her hand. “William Caesar, nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Pacifica replied cautiously, looking at him with her eyebrows low above her eyes. “So how did this little set up happen?” She gestured between the three of them.

Dipper and Bill glanced at each other. _Shit, we don’t have an alibi, how do we not have an alibi??_ Dipper thought frantically. _Dammit, why didn’t we do that??_

“We were friends in middle school,” Bill replied, sitting on the couch a little too close to Dipper. He tried to scoot away inconspicuously. “I moved to Portland before high school and we all recently connected through Facebook, P - _Dipper_ mentioned that they could use a roommate to pay expenses, and here we are.”

_Good save._

_You’ll never meet a better liar._

_I can believe that._

“So did you go to college in Portland?” Pacifica asked, almost with the tone of an interrogator. There was steel in her expression and the headspace flickered with alarm.

_She knows something._

_No she doesn’t._ “Yeah, PSU. I double-majored in drama and business. You?”

She smiled lightly and pushed some hair out of her eyes. “Entrepreneurship. Minored in French studies. I went to Pierre and Marie Curie University in Paris.”

“Really? I’m fluent in French.”

“Oh?” Pacifica said something in French that neither of the twins could follow. Bill replied in the same fluid, fast fashion. This continued for a good few minutes while the twins watched and listened, completely befuddled.

“Are you getting any of this?” Dipper asked his sister, who shrugged and made a face.

“No idea, it’s been like, six years since I’ve taken a French class, and I only got a C.”

The conversation was interrupted when the microwave beeped. Bill got to his feet. “I got it.”

As soon as he was in the kitchen and out of earshot, Pacifica turned to Dipper. “Do you think I’m an idiot?” she asked disparagingly.

Genuinely confused, he stared at her for a few seconds before saying “What?”

She pointed towards the kitchen. “Your _friend?_ From _middle school?_ You expect me to believe that?”

“Uh. Yes? Because it’s...true?” _Shit shit shit._

Pacifica rolled her eyes. “He’s not _from Portland.”_ She made air quotes with her fingers. "In fact, if I were to make an _educated guess,_ I would have to say he's not even from this _time period._ ”

Mabel and Dipper shot each other frantic looks. “What...what makes you say that?” Mabel asked, trying to keep her tone light but failing.

Pacifica cleared her throat. “I've been studying French for years, and I've spent the last year in particular studying the evolution of the language, how it's changed from century to century. He -” she pointed in the direction where Bill had left “- was speaking in a dialect that faded close to the end of the 17th century, not to mention some of the terms he used were practically archaic.”

 _Shit,_ Bill swore. _I knew there was something I've been forgetting to do._

_What, touch up on your modern French speaking skills??_

_Yeah, it was on my to-do list, but then you graduated, and now we're here._

_You're ridiculous._

_Says the guy who can't even speak a lick of another language. Et tu, arbor?_

_Shut up, I know some Hebrew._ _לך תזדיין_ _._

_Rude._

Dipper managed to respond. “W-well, he just, er, finished a course in – in historical French, at PSU.” He laughed nervously. “Must still be stuck in the class, that's just like him.” He elbowed Mabel in the side. “Classic B - _Will,_ am I right?” She nodded energetically in response.

“Uh-huh. As if I'm supposed to believe _that._ ” Pacifica leaned forward, deadly serious. “Look, I've been around for some of the weird crap that happened when we were kids. In case you don't remember, I watched about a hundred party guests turn into _wood,_ including _you,_ ” she directed to Dipper, who frowned. “So don't act like I can't handle these kinds of things.”

Mabel, who had guilt written all over her face, said, “It’s really not that, Paz, I swear, we know you can deal with this kinda stuff. It’s more like –“

“- we don't want to get anyone else involved,” Dipper finished, glancing at his sister, who nodded. “It's complicated, Pacifica.” He lowered his voice. “We're in danger, and the more you know, the more dangerous it gets for you.”

She just raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow and propped her chin up on her hand. “Dangerous? _There’s_ a nice change of pace for the Mystery Twins. Kinda figured you guys would chill out after you graduated...seriously, though.” She inspected a nail. “If there’s a problem, I can handle it. I could press a button on my phone and have some of my father’s guardsmen here in minutes.”

“Look, it’s not that kind of thing, this can’t be solved by - this is _supernatural_ stuff, Pacifica,” said Dipper, getting increasingly frustrated. “It’s not a normal problem.” Out of all the people he could have chosen to find out about their situation, he wouldn’t have expected or picked Pacifica Northwest, who would have little to no use in a demon-vs-demon situation in her 300-dollar dress and her high heels. “It’s supernatural stuff that we have to -”

“ _Supernatural?_ Then -” her eyes widened “- then he’s - _no.”_

“What’re we talking about?” Bill had rejoined them. He sat down with the popcorn bowl in his lap and grinned, his chin between his hands. “Are we talking about _me?”_

Mabel shifted, crossing her legs. “We should tell her,” she said reluctantly, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “I mean - she’s my friend. She deserves to know.”

“Okay.” Dipper took a deep breath and exhaled. “Okay. Pacifica, Will is -”

“We can tell her my real name,” Bill interrupted. He made a vague gesture. “If we’re telling her everything else, that can’t hurt.”

“You lied about your name, too?” Pacifica sat back in the chair, away from Bill, tense and wary. “Who even _are_ you?? Tell me. _Now.”_

“We are, we are!” Dipper said hurriedly, raising his hands. “Okay, this is Bill Cipher, and he’s kind of - he’s kind of a demon in a human body -”

“He’s a _what?!”_

“- and he’s immortal, and he’s pretty much omnipotent, so he’s fluent in every language. Right?” Dipper asked, glancing at Bill.

Bill put his hand dramatically over his chest. “You flatter me, little tree, I’m really only _mediocre_ with my Arabic, and my Kannada _definitely_ needs at least a decade of focus - but yeah, I pretty much am. Just not with modern French, apparently.” His phone flew out of his pocket and hovered in midair as he tapped at it. “Gotta make a note of that. _Touch up on modern French._ And..oh, yeah. _Buy more beer.”_

Pacifica was staring slightly open-mouthed at him. She shook her head rapidly and pressed her fingers to her temples. “No fucking _way_ is any of this real. I come home to see my friend and her nerdy brother and I get _this?”_

“Trust me, he wouldn’t be here if he didn’t have to be here,” said Dipper curtly, folding his arms.

Bill slung an arm around Dipper’s shoulder and laughed brazenly. “Ah, he’s just messin’ around. We’re a family.”

Dipper tried to move away with little success. “You’re a douche. _Anyway,_ our demon roommate here managed to piss off another demon who is currently trying to find him and kill him, which is putting us in danger, along with anyone who’s close to us.” He gave Bill a disgruntled look.

“It’s not _my_ fault he’s still angry about something that happened almost 2000 years ago,” Bill scoffed, leaning over and resting his head on Dipper’s shoulder.

Dipper shoved him off. “No, but if you weren’t here in the first place -”

“Don’t look at me, it was your idea -”

“Well, I didn’t exactly have a _choice -”_

“Guys! Stop!” Mabel said sharply, even as she suppressed a smile. She turned to Pacifica. “I understand if this is a lot to take in -”

“It’s a _hell_ of a lot to take in!” Pacifica snapped, her voice shaking. “It’s - this is -”

“You were the one who wanted in on this,” Dipper reminded her, more than a little irritated.

“ _I know that."_ She exhaled in a huff, her hands in fists at her sides. She closed her eyes and tossed her hair. “Okay. Okay, this is fine. So you’re - you’re immortal?” she directed to Bill without explicitly looking at him.

“Yep! So if you _really_ want an expert in French history, look no further. I was a member of King Louis the Fourteenth’s court for 20 years.” Bill reclined and rested his feet on the coffee table.

“And there’s _another_ demon-human thing running around out here?” Pacifica demanded, gesturing randomly. “Trying to _kill_ you guys??”

“More him than either of us,” Dipper replied, still looking cross. “We had nothing to do with it.”

“So there’s a bigger trouble magnet than you for once? That’s new.” She pushed her bangs out of her face for the hundredth time. “ _God,_ I need a trim. Well, how can I help?”

Dipper blinked. “Excuse me?”

She rolled her eyes and repeated, “How can I help? I have resources at my disposal. What do you need to do?”

“Ideally? Kill him,” Bill replied nonchalantly. “But he _might_ be indestructible, so that could end up being impossible.”

“We need to find out about this tattoo that’s on Bill’s neck,” Dipper interjected. “Mabel, do you still -”

“I have the picture. Here.” Mabel handed her phone to Pacifica, who frowned down at the photo of the tattoo.

“What language is this? I don’t recognize it at all.”

“It’s my name in this ancient obsolete demon language from, like, 15,000 years ago. I have no idea why it’s there, but it’s gotta have some kind of significance,” said Bill, shrugging and throwing an arm over the back of the couch.

“Does this other demon have one?” Pacifica asked, turning the phone to different angles.

“We weren’t really able to see his neck when we were getting the fuck out of there,” said Dipper. “But in the book where the human transmutation ritual was recorded, the author made a note that markings appear on the human after the ritual, so, probably.”

Pacifica was quiet for a minute as she thought, her perfect eyebrows bent in concentration, her bangs in her face again.

 _Why does your sister keep_ staring _at her?_

Dipper glanced at Mabel, who was looking at Pacifica out of the corner of her eye.

 _Well, they haven’t seen each other in four years, and they were really good friends before we graduated high school. And she looks_ really _different. Her parents were super uptight, like_ way _too uptight. I wonder when she got her nose pierced._

Bill’s mouth twitched. _I don’t think it’s that._

_What -_

“I think I can help,” said Pacifica suddenly. She looked back up at Dipper. “My dad has connections with almost every college in America, and some in other countries, too. He has, like, everything available to him when it comes to information. If I can come up with a good explanation as to why we need to find out what this says, I’ll get what I ask for.” She made a face. “ _Ugh,_ I hope he doesn’t make me go out with another billionaire’s son in exchange. The last one threw up on my dress when he tried to kiss me.”

Mabel burst into near-hysterical giggles. “ _Seriously?”_

Pacifica laughed too, some of the worry lines disappearing from her face. “Yeah, I’ve got a _lot_ of crappy date stories for you, Mabes.”

“Oh my gosh, _tell_ me about it, once in junior year there was this guy who never took off his beanie and had weirdly long toenails -”

“Back to the point, maybe?” Dipper interrupted. “You’re _sure_ your dad can help?”

Pacifica nodded. “He knows people _everywhere._ If he doesn’t know at least one person who knows anything about demon languages or whatever, I’ll - I dunno.” She waved her hand. “I’ll give you some money.”

“We’re good on money,” said Bill, leaning forward, “but I’m _always_ accepting payment in the form of _slave labor.”_

Dipper elbowed him sharply in the side. “Don’t be weird. Well, it couldn’t possibly hurt us to ask him. Mabel?”

She nodded. “I say we do it. Why not? It’s better than doing something risky and stupid like _his_ plan.” She jerked her head in Bill’s direction.

He looked personally offended. “What’s wrong with _my_ plan??”

“We aren’t using my brother for bait, you monster!”

“I am _literally_ a demon, Shooting Star, we _just_ went over this.”

Mabel scowled at him. “Well, try to show a _little_ compassion. This is good, though, we’re making progress!” She glanced over at Pacifica. “So when should we go to Portland?”

She shrugged. “I’ll text my dad and see when he’s not so busy. It’s a week long conference thing but I think there’s at least one day when he’s not going to a billion meetings and lectures.”

Dipper stood up; he was reaching his limit on both social interaction - specifically, social interaction with Pacifica. Even after she and Mabel became real friends sometime in the summer after their freshman year of high school, he had never really reconciled with her.

_She’s a nice girl, I don’t see what your problem is._

_Look, she treated Mabel like garbage for almost two summers, and I’m not cool with_ anyone _treating my sister like garbage._

He gestured towards the stairs. “I’m gonna head upstairs, watch TV or something, I’m sure you guys wanna catch up on things.”

Mabel waved him off. “Yeah, yeah, we’ve got girly stuff.”

“Then I’m out too.” With the popcorn bowl under his arm and a beer bottle in his other hand, Bill got to his feet and headed to his room. He waved with the hand holding the beer. “‘Night, Star.”

“G’night!” Mabel replied cheerfully, already turning to her friend. “So what kind of _billionaire’s sons_ have you been going out with??”

Pacifica grimaced. “God, I don’t even want to think about it…”

Dipper headed for his room once he got upstairs, swapped his jeans for sweatpants, then fell onto the couch and turned on Netflix. He was busy deciding between Fringe and Bones when, very abruptly, Bill appeared half-sitting on the armrest, still holding his beer.

“Whatcha watching?”

Dipper jumped violently and nearly fell off the couch. “Holy _fuck,_ don’t do that.”

“Are you _still_ not used to me teleporting everywhere? ‘S easier than walking. Can we watch something with Seth Rogen in it? I don’t know who he is, but I’ve decided he’s my new favorite actor.”

“I - th - _no,_ go watch TV in your own room.” Dipper kicked vaguely in Bill’s direction and grimaced at the sudden deja vu. _God, almost this exact same scenario happened a month ago and we all know where_ that _ended up -_

_Why else would I be in here?_

Dipper made a noise of disgust and kicked at Bill again, this time hitting his leg. “Get out!”

“I’m _kidding,_ I wanted to talk about Damian.” He shoved Dipper’s legs off the seat and sat down, looking marginally more serious. “We have to figure out where he is now.”

“Why?” Dipper asked, sitting up.

“Because, think about it. He could go anywhere, anywhere _but_ here, right? He comes too close and the salt repels him, and that’s how he would find out where we are.”

“Okay, true, but there’s a _lot_ of cities in Oregon, it could take him weeks to check here. And some cities are huge, I mean, Portland is massive, it’d be impossible to put salt around the whole place, we could have sectioned off one small area out of many -”

“Yeah, but he saw into your head for a week and a half or so, not enough to figure out exactly where we are, but if this town got into your dreams, he’d know where to go.”

“Well, you’ve seen my dreams, have I?”

Bill waved his hand. “Eh, sort of. Do you remember a dream where the shack flooded?”

“Vaguely.”

“So he saw that, but if he hasn’t seen any kind of -”

Dipper froze.

“Shit. _Shit._ Oh, son of a _bitch -_ ” Without another word, he vaulted off the couch and sprinted for the door, then downstairs, shouting, “MABEL! I need to see your phone!”

He skidded into the lounge to see the girls sitting on the floor and staring at him, bewildered.

Mabel pulled her phone out of her pocket and handed it to him. “Here, password’s 0612, why -?”

Dipper unlocked her phone and went straight to her photos app, sliding past a page of pictures of flowers and a cat and selfies with stickers all over them and back to the photo of the tattoo from a month ago.

_Fuck fuck fuck fuck -_

His heart lurched forward and seemed to drop when he clicked on the photo and saw exactly what he expected to see in the little gray bar above the picture.

_Gravity Falls, June 20 8:23 PM_

“What the hell is going on?” Pacifica demanded of Dipper’s suddenly horrified expression.

“Yeah, what she said!” Mabel exclaimed, craning her head to see what Dipper was looking at. Her expression, too, changed to one of utmost dread as the realization hit her. “Oh _no._ ”

Dipper felt Bill’s presence shift and knew he had teleported downstairs and was standing behind him. Pacifica’s sudden noise of surprise confirmed this.

“How - ! No, you know what? Doesn’t matter. What _is_ this?” She gestured at the phone.

Dipper took a deep breath and exhaled. “Okay. So. When we were at Damian’s place, we asked him about the tattoo, but we didn’t want him to know that Bill was a demon, so we showed him this picture of the tattoo instead.”

“But I had location services on when I took the photo, so when he looked at the picture, he...saw where I took it,” said Mabel, biting her lip. “We lied to him and told him that the tattoo was someone else’s, but since he found out that it was Bill’s, he probably remembered that and he - he knows where we live.”

Pacifica’s shocked “ _What?”_ was drowned out by a very inhuman snarl.

Bill’s hands were balled into fists and his eyes were flickering red with rage. “I’ll fucking _kill_ that piece of shit -”

“Calm down!” said Dipper hastily, his heart jumping out of his stomach and into his throat. He projected calming thoughts into the headspace as best as he could considering the whole thing was brimming with absolute terror and white-hot anger and, out of a reflex, grabbed Bill’s hands and tried to loosen his fists. “Calm down,” he repeated, a little annoyed. “Don’t flip out.”

The headspace still hummed with fury that Dipper couldn’t drown out. He rolled his eyes and huffed before he leaned forward and brought their foreheads together. He was faced with a sudden rush of intense bloodlust and many, many images of Damian being literally ripped apart.

Ignoring his sudden nausea, he closed his eyes and continued to push nicer thoughts into the headspace, no matter how much it felt like he was trying to wrestle a large animal. He vaguely felt a physical pressure on the sides of his head and recognized it was Bill’s hands on his face.

 _Does that help?_ he asked, his thought a little muddied from the emotions stamping out everything around them.

 _Closeness helps,_ was the curt reply.

Dipper hesitantly raised his hands and held them over Bill’s, curled his fingers around his. _Better?_

_Little bit._

The intense process of trying to get the bloodlust out of the headspace continued for what felt like hours, Dipper’s whole head was starting to hurt and he was running out of “happy” things to throw in as he continued to wrestle with Bill’s anger, eventually just pulling up clips from sitcoms. Finally, _finally_ the white rage gave way to a more relaxed shade of purple that moved wave-like across the floor of the headspace. It still jumped in brief, hot bursts, but it was no longer in control.

Bill’s hands slackened and his breathing was easier. They kept their foreheads together.

“Are you okay?” Dipper asked out loud, his eyes still closed.

“Yeah, sorry.”

“Can we have an _actual discussion_ now ?”

A sigh. “Yes.”

“Good.” Dipper pulled his forehead away and tried to ignore the soreness in his mental muscles - _how_ had that become a phrase in his lexicon? _Who fucking knows._

He turned back to the girls, both of whom were taken aback by the whole ordeal. “Okay, anyway -”

“What the heck was _that?”_ Mabel demanded. “What just happened?? Is he okay??”

Bill held up his hands. “I’ll explain. So, sometimes demons can go into states of rage when the objects of their claims are threatened -”

“What the fuck is a _claim?”_ asked Pacifica suspiciously, her eyebrows furrowed.

“Doesn’t matter!” said Dipper quickly, casting a glance at Bill.

“- and we need to be calmed down before that anger takes over and we start killing things,” Bill finished. “It’s like that fight or flight thing humans have. Except, y’know. No flight.”

“ _Anyway,”_ Dipper said loudly before anybody could ask any more questions, “we should figure out what we’re gonna do about this whole mess.”

Mabel rubbed her temples, frowning. “Damian knows where we live, okay, Damian knows where we live. We’re protected for how long??”

“That book thing said up to two weeks.”

“ _Ugh,_ okay, so we probably have at least a week since we did it three days ago, but after that -”

“- we’re screwed,” Dipper agreed, exchanging a grim look with his sister. “Unless we can find a way to protect ourselves.”

“What if you guys just leave?” Pacifica suggested, shrugging. “I mean, so this guy knows you live here, he’ll probably just camp out and wait. But if you leave, you’ll throw him off your trail.”

“Well, we kinda _live_ here, we can’t just pack up and _move -”_

“I don’t mean _move._ ” Pacifica frowned at Dipper. “I mean just get out of town for a while. If we’re going to Portland anyway, you could get a hotel and stay for a few days. This Damian demon thing - person, whatever, he won’t know.”

“That could work,” said Mabel, staring into space behind Dipper’s head, her forehead creased in thought. “Yeah, I mean, how would he be able to tell if we were even here or not?”

 _If I put up the barriers in your head again, he wouldn’t be able to find out,_ Bill thought.

 _We would have to do it pretty consistently._ “He wouldn’t. Yeah, okay. Why don’t we drive up to Portland tomorrow.”

Mabel turned to Pacifica. “You’re coming with us, right?”

“Well, yeah, I have to talk to my dad, don’t I?” she replied. “I actually just got a new car as a graduation present, it’s an Aston Martin One-77, super fast.”

Dipper frowned. “Hang on - my friend Nate was into cars, isn’t the One-77 _two million dollars?”_ he asked incredulously.

She shrugged. “Maybe? I dunno, my dad bought it in England, he didn’t tell me how much it cost. That’s kinda _tacky,_ don’t you think?”

“I - okay, whatever. If you feel like driving, we can take your car.”

“Sure, I like driving. Though I’m still getting used to driving on the right side of the road, it’s been almost four years...but yeah, I’m up for driving.”

“I call shotgun!” said Mabel quickly.

“It’s gonna be, what, a three hour drive? Ish? We should leave before traffic gets too bad. Damn, we need to get hotel rooms -”

“On it,” Pacifica replied, tapping something into her phone. “My dad has a partnership with Marriott, so our family has priority. Okay, city center or waterfront? I say waterfront.”

“Er, yeah, sure, okay, _how_ are you _this_ rich??” Dipper demanded.

She half-smiled, a little smug, a familiar expression from their youth. “A combination of savvy business practices and inheritance. Two rooms with two beds, right?”

“What else would we want?” Dipper asked shortly, a little disgruntled from culture shock.

Pacifica’s eyes darted from Dipper to Bill and back, and she shrugged. “Just asking,” she said sweetly, tapping something else into her phone. “Let’s go with three days...okay, we’re booked.”

She set her phone down. “We can check in any time after noon, so I say we leave around noon and beat traffic, I’ll try to call my dad and see when he has time to meet with us, but Portland has a lot of cool places to go to, we can look around.”

Everything was happening really fast, _too_ fast, which wasn’t helping Dipper’s headache that had developed after Bill’s anger attack thing. He rubbed the palm of his hand against his forehead and shut his eyes tightly, trying to focus.

He staggered to his feet. “Okay, if that’s all figured out, I’m going to go lie in bed and contemplate how my life got to this point.”

“G’night, bro!” called Mabel as he left to head back upstairs.

He grunted something that sounded vaguely like _night_ in response and tromped upstairs. He opened the door to his room to find Bill already sitting on the couch.

“So we’re kind of fucked, aren’t we?” Dipper said wearily, trudging over to his bed. He sat up against the pillows and put his hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. “Damian knows where we live, and what happens when we come back from Portland? What if the salt thing wears off and -”

“I’ll stop you there,” Bill interrupted. “No good is gonna come from you constantly worrying about this. Just focus on the task at hand.”

Dipper looked over at him. “Are you giving me genuinely good-intentioned advice for once?”

“The more you worry, the more my mind is _tainted_ with your worry,” Bill pointed out. “You’re also very irritable when you’re stressed. It’s not very fun to be around.”

“It’s your fault that Damian’s after us in the first place!” Dipper retorted. “I’m _allowed_ to be stressed about this!”

“I never said you weren’t _allowed_ to be stressed, you’re just not as fun.” Bill draped himself over the armrest of the couch, looking at Dipper upside-down with his hair touching the floor. “Can we watch TV now? Let’s drown our worries in fictional worlds.”

“Yeah, alright,” Dipper agreed, and heaved himself off the bed to move over to the couch. He pressed a button to recline the seat, then fiddled with it until it was reclined at the right angle.

“I didn’t know this couch could do that!” Bill rolled over and onto the floor, then inspected the button on the side of the couch. “What do I have to do?”

Dipper stifled a laugh; _it’s been almost two months and you’re still fucking amazed by objects._ “You press it and then turn it until you’ve got the angle you want.”

It took a few minutes, but eventually they sat on the couch together while Dipper sorted through movies.

“You ever seen Alien?”

“No, is it good?”

“It’s good, but it’s freaky.” Dipper clicked on it and the buffer wheel popped up.

Bill leaned over and bumped his head into Dipper’s shoulder. “So you’re gonna let me _stay?_ There’s a change of pace.”

Dipper pushed him away. “Well, I can’t make you leave, as I’ve learned through repeated attempts, so…”

 _"Very_ true.” The headspace hummed. “It’s better for us to be closer.”

“Why, exactly?”

“It just feels more like we’re _whole_ when we’re with each other. _We are one,_ remember.”

With Bill sitting there next to him, barely a foot apart, Dipper hated to admit that he was right. The closer they were, the better he felt, in a way he couldn’t explain. He felt stronger, sturdier. _Complete,_ sort of.

Then Bill’s hand was on his leg and his lips were pressed to his neck and Dipper jerked violently away.

“Back off!” he snapped. “Can you just _stop?”_

“Oh, come on, it’s been _five days_ since I’ve touched you.” Bill caught one of his wrists and kissed his neck again; he shivered slightly as sharp teeth grazed his skin. “Do you know how _difficult_ this’s been?”

“No,” Dipper muttered, propping his chin up on his hand and staring determinedly at the TV. It was _mostly_ true; there was one shameless part of him that couldn’t care less about the current situation. “Get off me.”

“Really? Do you _really_ want me off of you?” Bill asked disparagingly, now unbuttoning Dipper’s shirt. “Be honest.”

Dipper pulled a face even as he begrudgingly considered giving in. Bill kissed him and he didn’t move away; there was a soft prodding somewhere in his nerves and he leaned into it, kissing back. The headspace hummed louder, scarlet gathering at its edges, and glowed with their closeness.

_See?_

_Yeah, okay, whatever._

_So…_

_Fine,_ Dipper thought. _But we’re not fucking._

Bill grinned, his hands on Dipper’s waist, and pulled away only to say, “Good enough.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **edited 12.5.17**  
> [this](http://smolskey.tumblr.com/post/134460076453/skeyart-nothing-too-crazy-just-my-headcanon) is what dm!pacifica looks like, jic you needed a visual. i put actual art on my art blog but i put lots of sketches on my twitter, so yea
> 
> so, okay, i updated a week earlier because it was really weird to go a whole week without writing dm. like really weird. i put off a research paper for this.
> 
> as always, thank you all so much for your likes/comments/bookmarks/art/everything!! you guys are the best, stay wonderful.


	19. Chapter Eighteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FZXIYRHTOK MYAR HLQTXES, FAAQIGJ FMR L SITJOL.
> 
> (also, listen to the song i link to in this chapter, it's great.)

_“No,_ Dad, I’m in _Portland._ Yes, _this_ Portland, why would I be in Maine??...Because I need to talk to you. When are you free?” Pacifica spoke into a Bluetooth as the group of four stepped out of the hotel and onto the street, cars going by in front of them.

Mabel squinted against the sun. “ _Wow,_ I forgot how many bridges Portland has. Which one is that? The Morrison?”

“Hawthorne,” replied Bill, his head bent over his phone. “Morrison’s down a few blocks. So what’re we gonna do for lunch?”

“The food carts are great here, apparently,” said Dipper, glancing around. “We could head up a few blocks -”

“ _No,_ Dad, it’s not about - what? I don’t _care_ about whoever the hell Getslinhaumer is, I want to know when I can talk to you! Well, me and some friends...yeah, Mabel? You remember her, right?... _ugh, no, Dad._ Look, can we please just meet with you sometime in the next few days?... _Seriously??_ You didn’t tell me -! Fine, _fine._ I’ll call you later.” Pacifica tapped her Bluetooth and huffed loudly. “Parents, am I right?”

The twins glanced at each other and didn’t reply.

Bill bumped his shoulder against Dipper’s. “So? Food? As soon as possible?”

“Yeah, yeah, c’mon, guys.”

The day was sunny and almost too hot, more so for Pacifica than the California-born-and-raised twins. She shrugged out of her jacket only minutes after leaving the hotel, tying it around her waist. The streets were mildly busy; workers on lunch breaks chattering through cell phones while drinking iced coffees and eating fries out of to-go boxes, some teenagers laughing as they walked between stores holding bags and Starbucks frappucinos, lawyers and businessmen in suits and ties and people on the street playing guitar and just about every kind of person you could see.

“So, is Portland tourist friendly?” Mabel asked, glancing around at the buildings. “Are we gonna get mugged? ‘Cause I still know _krav maga.”_ She made a few martial-arts-esque gestures.

“From _my_ experience, no, not really,” said Bill, looking up from his phone. He kept a hand on Dipper’s shoulder as if afraid of losing him. “People tend to keep to themselves here.”

“When were you in Portland last?” Dipper tried to shrug Bill’s hand off to no avail. “Haven’t you been stalking us for ten years?” Out of the corner of his eye, Pacifica appeared to be mildly disturbed.

“Well, not the _entire_ time, I deserved a break every now and then. Sometimes I’d come up here to blow off steam. Not a lot of nightlife, but some _great_ breweries. Ooh, can we all get drunk tonight?”

“Absolutely not,” said Dipper immediately. “The last time you drank you broke all those glasses, remember?”

“And you spoke in Welsh for half an hour and set the curtains on fire,” Mabel added. Pacifica stifled a laugh.

Bill scoffed. “Psh, so I had _one_ bad night. It won’t happen again.”

“Sure, you’ll just reminisce about the baroque period in front of strangers and probably start floating. And get your hand off of me!” Dipper grabbed Bill’s wrist and pushed him away.

He sighed dramatically. “I have the power to overturn entire civilizations. You could treat me with a little more respect.”

“I’m sorry, _who_ is the one who has Beyoncé’s entire discography memorized?”

“Hey, she’s the voice of a generation, and I have information to process. You know why I can listen to any Mozart song any time I want? Because I bother to _learn_ things. And _you_ can’t talk, little tree, you _asked_ me to play Single Ladies -”

“ _Okay,”_ Dipper interrupted, as Mabel appeared to be on the verge of bursting into giggles and Pacifica had a look of amused suspicion on her face. “Uh, still not sure where food carts are, but there’s also a bunch of restaurants -”

“Oh, I already made reservations for dinner,” said Pacifica, checking her phone. “We’re going to Jake’s at 6, it’s only a little further up from here. Also, Mabel and I want to go shopping after this, so you two can go…” She made a flicking gesture with her hand. “Do whatever boys do with their friends.”

“There’s some art galleries in the Pearl District,” Bill suggested, looking over at Dipper. “And the museum is up there a ways.”

The headspace was skeptical. _Really? You want to go do cultured stuff?_

_Your little sort-of hick town doesn’t have much to offer in that area, so, yes, let’s go do cultured stuff. I miss being able to see actual art, but nothing’s as wonderful as hovering over da Vinci’s shoulder while he paints...gotta say, everything just seems duller after that._

_Have I ever mentioned how douchey you are?_

“I’m sorry, just how is being interested in art _douchey?_ ” Bill asked critically, folding his arms.

Pacifica frowned, looking between the two of them. “What - oh, right. The telepathy thing.”

Mabel patted her arm. “Yeah, it takes some getting used to.”

It was up on Morrison and 11th that they finally found the block of food carts, where they hunted around for a few minutes before settling down in a small brick “park” one block over. They sat on some brick stairs to eat and talk and throw bits of bread to pigeons.

Eventually, Mabel and Bill volunteered to throw away trash (and continue to bait pigeons), and Pacifica and Dipper were left sitting with each other.

She broke the silence. “So what exactly _is_ the relationship between you two?” She jerked her head in the direction of the others.

“It sounds completely unreal, but our souls are literally bound together,” Dipper replied bluntly, trying to make some awkward hand motions to illustrate his point. “We can sense each other’s emotions and physical sensations, we can communicate telepathically -”

“And how did this happen?”

He fidgeted, crossing one leg over the other. “Well, it, uh. It’s not something I _wanted_ to do by any means. It was kind of a last resort.”

“A last resort to _what?”_

Dipper coughed. “He was, er, going to probably kill us, or at least _use_ us for something -”

“He _what?!”_ Pacifica demanded, turning and staring at him in shock. “And you bound your _soul_ to him??”

“Again, last resort! We - we struck a deal, he leaves our family alone and does this soul bond thing with me and I give him a human body, and we haven’t been hurt since, so…” _Though that’s not entirely true,_ he thought resentfully, and resisted the urge to touch a rather sore bitemark on his side.

“ _Wow._ Okay, that’s definitely not completely fucking ridiculous, _how_ do you get into these situations?” Pacifica asked, half disparaging and half genuinely concerned.

Dipper shrugged. “Shit happens,” he replied mysteriously.

She rolled her eyes, brushed some hair out of her face, and said, “And is that it?”

“Uh, what?”

She half-smiled, her eyes narrowing. “Well, he can’t seem to keep his hands off of you.”

In the headspace, Bill was laughing. _Shut the fuck up,_ Dipper snapped, _she wouldn’t be asking if you weren’t so fucking clingy all the time._

“Yeah, he’s just weird that way, really doesn’t understand the concept of personal space.”Dipper looked away from Pacifica and her knowing smirk.

Bill sat back down next to Dipper and slung an arm around him. “Alright! You ready for some _art?”_

“Sure, sure.” Dipper got up and stretched. “Are you guys planning on staying out until dinner?” he asked the girls.

They exchanged a look. “Dunno,” said Mabel, shrugging. “I’ll text you if something happens.”

“Alright, we’ll head off, then.”

 

The day passed easily, the unnaturally hot weather not as awful as any of them had expected it to be, the environment better than they remembered. The local coffee was expensive and the baristas all had the same facial hair; the trees bloomed beautiful and green and shed dappled sunlight all across the city; they had to walk out of the way of bikers every few minutes. It was pretentious, laid back, metropolitan, organic; nostalgic, even, for the big cities of the twins’ youth.

For a while, Dipper felt 16 again, visiting Portland with his extended family because they were recovering from a disastrous incident at Crater Lake and had had to flee before the authorities arrived.

It was almost 8 and still light out, and in some park on the east side close to Hawthorne, a DJ was playing music while groups of hipsters sort-of danced and drank microbrews and ordered food from food carts across the street. It was loud, but not loud enough for someone to call the police, and everyone there was taking advantage of that.

Dipper sat on a bench covered in graffiti and finished eating the crepe he had gotten at a food cart a few blocks over; it was buttercream, nutella, strawberry, and marionberry, which had been the most normal out of all the ones listed on the wipe-away menu board. The attractive blonde girl with her hair tied in a messy bun and wearing a cut-off shirt that looked like a perfume ad had smiled a little too widely at him when he had picked up his order, and the headspace had been simmering slightly ever since. He thought about her briefly almost out of defiance, and then Mabel sat down next to him, giggling madly, and the thought left him.

“Dipper!” she exclaimed, grabbing at his arm. “You have to come dance! It’s so much fun! I was talking to this guy who said he started a line of _sports sandals,_ and this other guy runs an organic juice stand across town, and I tried a microbrew for the first time in _years_ and I actually liked it, which is weird, because I usually _hate_ beer, I think ever since the Van Buren party in junior year -”

“Hey, slow down, slow down,” Dipper interrupted, grinning. “Sure, I’ll come.”

“Yes!! Throw that away and get out here! There was this cute redhead girl hanging out with sports sandals guy - I think his name was Jeremy? - and I bet you’d like her, let’s go find them, come on!”

He got up off the bench and tossed the wrapper into a nearby trash can, then allowed Mabel to drag him into the thick of the dancing, which was much tamer than some of the clubs his friends had dragged him to during college. The DJ was playing some obscure electronic remix of an indie rock song that Dipper didn’t recognize, but it had a good beat, and everybody was nodding their heads along.

“You’re acting really, like, normal,” he commented loudly to Mabel as they pushed their way past a group of bearded men. “Considering we have a killer after us.” He thought he saw a girl give them a weird look before she turned around.

She shrugged. “I’ve found I’m extraordinarily good at turning problems off for a while.” She hummed a song from The Book of Mormon and stood on her tiptoes, looking through the crowd. “D’you see Pacifica?”

“Er, no, I don’t. Have you seen Bill? Where did he run off to?”

Mabel frowned at him. “You mean you can’t tell?”

Dipper shrugged. “The headspace doesn’t say everything. He’s...hm.” He focused internally for a few seconds. “He might be tipsy. Or I might be tipsy. I can’t tell.”

Mabel rolled her eyes. “How much have you had?”

“I had those cocktails at the restaurant. And I got a beer from that 7-11.” Dipper gestured vaguely to the west. “And if he’s been drinking too, it just...amplifies things... “ He trailed off, staring at the sun, which was just starting to sink to the horizon, turning the sky shades of orange and pink.

Mabel poked him. “Helloooo, Earth to Dip, you gonna pass out on me?”

He shook his head rapidly. “Nope! Definitely not! I am... _not_ gonna do anything like that. Let’s dance.”

“Mabel!”

Mabel turned to see Pacifica heading towards them, looking slightly disgruntled as she brushed past a large amount of sweaty men in tank tops.

She pushed some hair out of her face and said, “Where can I get beer?”

“You too?? Why do you guys wanna get drunk so bad?” Mabel asked, laughing.

Pacifica smiled - an _actual_ smile, Dipper noticed, not one of her cold business smiles that never reached her eyes. “Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had a beer? The beer in France is _terrible,_ I gave up on that, I’ve been drinking cocktails for four” - she coughed - “I mean, _two_ years.”

Dipper gestured off to the west again. “There’s a 7-11 over there with microbrews.”

“A convenience store with microbrews??”

“That’s Portland.”

She shook her head in amusement. “Okay, I’m heading over there. Wanna come with me, Mabes?”

“Yeah, okay, I might get a beer too.” Mabel pointed at Dipper with both of her index fingers. “You okay here by yourself?”

Dipper nodded. “I’m good. I’ll find Bill, I guess. You won’t be too long, right?”

“Doubt it,” said Pacifica, rifling through her wallet. “Anybody got change for a 50?”

Mabel rolled her eyes and shoved Pacifica in the direction of the 7-11. “Come on, Paris Hilton, let’s get our drink on.”

“Hey, I’m more of a Kourtney Kardashian,” Pacifica disagreed, slinging her arm around Mabel’s shoulders as they pushed and shoved their way out to the street.

The music changed; everything was slowing down. [The new song that started](https://soundcloud.com/cannonstheband/down-on-love) was softer, lots of electronic guitar sounds and a breathy woman’s voice. People slowed down, their voices quieting, their expressions softening.

Dipper remembered the stuck up girl they first met when they were 12 as he watched her leave with his sister and wondered how she became who she was today, short hair and pierced nose, the cold diamond glitter in her eyes blurring to a glow when she looked at Mabel. Did it start all the way back then, when Mabel first extended a hand of friendship to her? Later? Much later, in France?

He wasn’t a huge fan of her, no, but he could respect her now. And if she suddenly became a big part of their lives, he would grow to be comfortable with that.

_Doesn’t seem too hard to believe, does it?_

Dipper jumped.  _Geez, there you are, you’ve been quiet for a while, where are you? I haven’t felt any separation pain -_

_No, I’ve just been getting a drink, getting some dessert, testing my people skills._

_Oh God._

_Don’t give me that, I’m fine! You have way too little faith in me. Also, let’s dance._

_Where even are you?_

_I see you, I’m coming over._

Dipper waited, moving ever so slightly to the rhythm of the song that was playing. A few seconds later, Bill materialized in front of two dancing girls, brushing some dirt off his arms. He had rolled the sleeves of his button-down up to his elbows and pushed his hair back.

He approached Dipper and got too close to him, enough that Dipper stepped back, uncomfortable. “Personal space, man, come on.” He shoved lightly at Bill’s chest.

“So what’ve you been doing?”

“Eating, dancing, drinking. Are you drunk?”

“Nah. Little tipsy, not drunk.” Bill pulled Dipper closer by his waist. “C’mon, let’s dance.”

Dipper leaned back and away. “This isn’t _that_ kind of dancing. This is ‘bob-up-and-down-while-your-friend-grinds-on-a-girl-next-to-you’ dancing. Well, not as much now, but...earlier. Yeah.”

“Sounds like you have experience in that area.”

“I got dragged to clubs and parties a lot in junior and senior year, and my friends were manwhores, what can I say?”

Bill laughed. “And you were too awkward to talk to girls at clubs.”

“Ever since I puked on a girl at a party I’ve been too nervous to try,” Dipper admitted.

“That was in freshman year, you can hold your drink now.”

They were quiet for a few moments. Dipper intentionally turned his head to the side and looked out at the people, at the skyscrapers in the distance, at a life he wished he could see more of. He was starting to miss the city life he'd experienced in college - as much of a city life one could have in Eugene, anyway. Still, though. It had been two months since graduation and he felt like he'd aged years.

He shook his head. He got way too wishful and reflective when he was tipsy. The world was just blurred enough for his own edges to come into focus. 

_Stay close to me._

Dipper turned back to Bill. _Why should I?_

_Because you want to._

Dipper’s personal headspace was, indeed, advocating for closeness, much to his dismay. The feeling burned like a low fire underneath the slight static noise of inebriation. Some kind of magnetism. And Bill could see everything, of course, with all of his experience with the human mind and its eccentricities. Dipper wondered if Bill could see things that he himself didn’t even know about.

_Sometimes. If I’m looking for it._

That should have caused Dipper immense discomfort, but, as he realized after a few heartbeats, it didn’t. It was just accepted knowledge. Just _there._

 _Maybe it’s because you’re finally getting that I’m not trying to hurt you. Contractually, I can’t,_ Bill thought matter-of-factly. _I’m just learning more about humans through you. You make a good science experiment, little tree. I guess that's appropriately_ nerdy.

_Are you feeling emotions yet? I mean, the ones you can’t ordinarily recognize?_

_Sort of. My sense of humor has expanded. Did you know I used to_ not _find animals wearing clothes funny? I think your sister’s rubbed off on me._

Dipper cracked a smile. _So you’re an infinitesimal step closer to being human, congratulations._

 _Eugh, more like the opposite of congratulations. I don’t want to be like you, you’re so...weak. Perishable. You bruise so easily._ Bill grinned. _I would know._

Dipper wrinkled his nose and looked down. _These hickeys are finally going away._

_That’s a shame._

_No more of that. I’d like to be able to wear normal shirts again._

_Or we could stop at Sephora and pick up some concealer._

Dipper paused. _That’s...actually not that bad of an idea. Maybe we should do that tomorrow. I’ve still got a really deep red one -_

His thoughts fizzled out when Bill leaned down slightly and kissed him. Taken aback, he would have stumbled backwards if Bill hadn’t had his hands around his waist. It still carried the same weight of possessiveness, but it was gentler, probably because people surrounded them and kept bumping into them. Still, Bill held him tightly and kissed him hard, and all he could do was kiss him back, the headspace humming away in shades of red and gold.

They broke apart and their synchronized heartbeats pounded in the headspace. The air was hot; Bill’s hands oddly warm. The sound of the music and the people around them was little more than white noise.

“What was that for?” Dipper asked, his voice surprisingly steady.

Bill jerked his head. “There was a guy over there looking at you.”

Dipper snorted and the sounds of the world were audible once again. “Really? Some guy was _looking_ at me? How is that at all a good reason? I thought your weird demon shit only kicked in when another demon was near me.”

“That wasn’t demon stuff.” Bill was looking at him peculiarly, and Dipper shifted and turned away, looking out at where the sun was sinking below the horizon. The sky was burnished orange and red, bathing the world in a warm glow, fire bouncing off beer bottles and hair and bodies and grass and concrete.

Bill’s grip tightened around Dipper’s waist. “We’re going back to the hotel.”

“You can’t be tired already, you slept the entire way here,” Dipper replied disbelievingly.

Bill gave him a look.

“But it’s not even _nine_ yet -”

“That wasn’t a question.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

Bill laughed, even covering his mouth with his hand. _This is why I like you, little tree. You’re so...hm. You’re stubborn. Never following anybody’s rules. Forging your own path, taking the road less travelled. So noble._

Rather reluctantly, Dipper rested his head against Bill’s chest. _You’re buying me candy-flavored liquor, and I’m drinking the whole bottle on the cab ride back._

The headspace glowed yellow. _So we’re going?_

_Yeah, whatever._

But cabs tended to be few and far between in Portland, mostly centering in the downtown area and by the convention center, so they ended up using Uber to get a ride back to the hotel. Dipper texted Mabel and told her they were going back, to which he received a winky face emoji, to which he sent the middle finger emoji.

The ride only took a few minutes to get there, then about fifteen minutes to get to a liquor store, as promised, and then to the hotel, during which Bill took advantage of Dipper’s polite conversation with the driver to fuck with his mind and try to make him slip up.

 _Stop!_ Dipper snapped mentally the fourth time he stumbled over a word because of interference in his nerves.

_No way, this is fun._

As it was, Dipper was relieved when they got back to the hotel and were able to get up to their room without any further distractions. They were kissing before the door even swung shut behind them once they entered the room.

“I guess I won you over,” Bill commented when they broke apart, his expression smug and a similar cold glitter in his eyes. Dipper looked at him, their eyes meeting, and the frozen light in his eyes didn’t blur to the same glow he had seen before, the way Pacifica’s had. Solid gold. Fool’s gold, maybe. How appropriate.

Fake. Deceitful. Wrong.

Because he hoped and hated himself too much, Dipper responded by seizing Bill by his shirt front and kissing him; not fighting, but not giving up.

 

At exactly 10:55 the next morning, the group of four stood waiting outside of one of the Portland State University lecture halls, Pacifica staring impatiently at her phone while the other three dawdled and had casual conversation.

“Yeah, he had, like, both his arms covered in tattoos.” Mabel brushed her own arms. “There were fish n’ seaweed all up n’ down the right one, and the left one had this giant dragon on it with some big black markings and something in cursive, I couldn’t read it.” She glanced over at Dipper. “You okay, bro?”

He nodded, grimacing. “Yeah, just...er, headache.”

“You want some pills?”

“Took some before we left. I’m fine, they’ll kick in soon.”

The door to the lecture hall opened and groups of well-dressed people came out into the sunlight, talking amongst themselves or on their phones or stuffing documents into folders into their briefcases, like Pacifica’s father.

“Dad!” she shouted, standing rather belligerently in the middle of where everybody was walking. They were forced to swerve around her, some looking irritated.

“Dad!” she shouted again, louder, and he looked up. He saw her and his face split into a wide smile.

“There’s my girl!” He pushed his way past other businesspeople and hugged her. She hugged him back but, Dipper noticed, only very lightly.

She also pulled away rather quickly and gestured to the other three. “Dad, you remember the Pines twins.”

“Hi, uh. Mr. Northwest, sir,” said Dipper awkwardly. Bill mocked him in the headspace and Dipper told him to shove it.

“Of course, of course, how’ve you all been? I heard you’re running the Shack all by yourselves fresh out of school,” he replied with gusto. “Your parents must be proud.” Pacifica rolled her eyes to the extent that Mabel had to bite back her giggles.

“I, er, hope so. And, er, this is our roommate, Will.” Bill gave a nod.

Mr. Northwest stepped forward and extended a hand, professional as you please. “Nice to meet you.”

“And you, sir,” Bill replied, shaking his hand. _I remember this guy. I go way back with his great grandfather. That was fun, I always liked being worshipped by a cult, very flattering._

“Dad, they wanted to ask you about something important,” Pacifica said quickly before her father could go off on a tangent, as he looked like he was about to. “ _Privately,”_ she added, glancing at the twins.

“Oh, of course, of course, I’m sure I can find us a room.” He pulled out his phone and pressed a few buttons, then held it up to his ear. “Hennessy? Are there any free rooms upstairs?...excellent, keep students out of it, I’ll be up in a minute. And make sure it’s clean!” He hung up and pocketed the phone. “Alright, everyone, a colleague of mine has a room upstairs we can use.”

So began the brief but very awkward and uncomfortable trek up four flights of concrete stairs. Thankfully, because Mr. Northwest had put on some weight in the recent years and was breathing rather heavily in his three-piece suit and the 80-degree weather, idle conversation wasn’t necessary.

Bill and Dipper went over their ideas on how to ask him about what they needed.

_Just ask him if he knows about anybody studying the paranormal._

_That sounds so suspicious, though, what about, like, religious studies? Spiritual studies? Maybe pagan studies?_

_Possible. Ooh, say ‘religious linguistics,’ that sounds smart. Might give him a better impression of you._

_What, does he have a_ bad _impression of me?_

_From what I know, he thought you and your sister were backwoods hooligans when you were teenagers._

_What?? We didn’t even fucking_ live _in the woods..._

_Like great uncles, like great nieces and nephews, I suppose._

Upstairs, they walked down a long stretch of hallway with rooms occupied by students reading textbooks and scrawling notes until they came to one with the door open. Mr. Northwest gestured at it. “After you.”

Inside was a single circular table. One after the other, they all sat around it.

Once the door closed, Pacifica cleared her throat and said, “Dad, they’re looking to get in touch with a professor or, like, someone super smart because of a problem they have.”

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow at the twins. “What exactly are you looking for?”

Dipper glanced at Bill and said, “We need to talk to someone in, uh, religious studies.”

“Any particular religion?” Mr. Northwest prompted, his hands underneath his chin.

“It, uh, doesn’t matter too much, but, uh, they have to know stuff about - about demons and angels and stuff like that.”

He nodded. “I can easily get in contact with people in that field. May I write this down?”

“Er - y-yeah, of course.”

He pulled a piece of paper out of his briefcase and scrawled something across it in pen. “Religious studies, angels and demons. Anything else?”

“If they know anything about alchemy, that would be great,” Bill added.

“And, uh, ancient languages?” said Dipper.

“Certainly, certainly...you know, I believe I know the perfect man for the job,” said Mr. Northwest with conviction. “Hang on…” He reached into his briefcase and pulled out a small laptop, then opened it and typed something in. “I don’t have his phone number on my phone, but I believe…ah, yes, here we are. Professor Isaiah Omar, sociolinguistics and religious studies, University of Texas at Austin, we used to time-share a complex in St. Barts. That was a _long_ time ago. Just let me give him a call.”

While Mr. Northwest entered the number into his phone and waited for it to pick up, Dipper and Bill conversed at lightspeed in the headspace, thoughts bouncing off of each other and colliding head-on and becoming a whirlwind of possibilities and questions. It was mostly a lot of _I really hope this works._

“Hello, Isaiah? It’s Preston...yes, yes, I know, it’s been so long, so how’s…? Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that. Well, it’s her loss. Fine, fine, just fine, my daughter just got back from graduate school in France...really? We’ll have to discuss -”

Pacifica cleared her throat loudly. “ _Dad.”_

“Ah, right, of course, see...yes, yes, I’m calling because some friends of my daughter’s need some information, and it sounds like it’s just your field. They’re asking about, ah, demons and angels, and ancient languages - yes, I figured...fantastic! Shall I let you talk to them?...all right.”

Mr. Northwest reached across the table and handed the phone to Dipper. “He’d like to speak with you.”

“I - alright.” Dipper held up the phone. “Hi, uh, Professor Omar?”

The voice on the other line had a slight southern accent. “Yes, hello, and can I ask your name?”

“D - uh, Mason Pines, sir. Listen, I asked Mr. Northwest to put me in touch with you because we - we - well, it sounds crazy,” Dipper admitted, well aware of the fact that Mr. Northwest was listening very intently.

“Mr. Pines, can I assume that you have had contact with a spiritual being?”

“I - actually, yes, that’s - that’s exactly it,” Dipper replied, relieved. “You don’t think that sounds crazy?”

“On the contrary. I’m a very spiritual man. I believe that their world is not too far away from our own. I’m impressed, Mr. Pines, I would expect most people to go to a so-called ‘psychic,’” Omar said with disdain.

Dipper resisted the urge to laugh. An image of Damian flashed through his head. “I completely agree.” A smile flickered across Bill’s face and was gone moments later. “If it’s okay with you, sir, I would much rather we discuss this in person.”

“I understand. As long as it’s not too much trouble to come down to Austin. Would you be willing to exchange emails?”

“Yeah, yeah…”

They traded emails, Dipper typing Omar’s down in his notes app. “Okay, um, we should be able to get down there relatively soon, as long as there’s no conflict…?”

“No, not really, I’m just finishing up my lesson plans and I’d welcome a break from _that._ Always happy to do a favor for Preston. We can plan a meeting once you get to Austin. It was nice meeting you, Mr. Pines.”

“You too, uh, sir, and you can call me Dipper, everyone else does.”

Omar laughed. “Can do. All right, we’ll be in touch.” A beep and then a dial tone.

Dipper handed the phone back to Mr. Northwest, who pocketed it. “Well! I hope that was helpful,” he said. “It sounds like it was.”

“It definitely was, thank you so much for your help,” said Dipper quickly. He rose from his seat and the other three did as well. Pacifica had been consistently drumming her fingers on the table, obviously anxious to get away from her father.

“Well, if that’s all -”

“Yes, that’s all,” Pacifica interrupted, grabbing Mabel’s hand and walking purposefully towards the door. “Thanks, Dad. Come on, guys.” Dipper and Bill hurried after her as she pulled the door open.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart, you -”

But Mr. Northwest’s voice was cut off as Pacifica practically sprinted down the hallway with the other three in her wake.

It wasn’t until they were back out in the sunlight that Mabel was able to ask, “What th’ heck was that about?”

Pacifica scowled. “I’m _sick_ of my dad. You know one of the reasons I went to France for college was to get away from my family? _Ugh.”_ With her hands balled into fists, she continued her too-fast walk down the street, nearly knocking some unsuspecting PSU students to the ground and paying them no attention.

The twins exchanged a look. “I’ll tackle this,” said Mabel quietly.

“Thanks. Tell me everything?”

Mabel clicked her tongue and winked at her brother, making finger pistols with her hands, and hurried to catch up with Pacifica, clinging to her arm rather unnecessarily.

So the men were left alone. In response to an unspoken request, Dipper replayed the conversation with the professor.

_Sound suspicious to you at all?_

_No, just_ unique. _Seems like you’re all constantly inventing new things to major in. Of course, most of the first schools were just learning how to read Latin, so you’ve come a long way._

 _You know, for someone who claims to dislike humans so much, you sure know a lot about us,_ Dipper commented.

 _You’re the dominant species on earth, the source of most of the current world problems, and one of the only ways for me to gain power and accomplish my goals, so, yes, I kinda_ have _to know a lot about you, no matter how much I’d rather be doing..._ anything _else,_ Bill replied disdainfully.

He sighed. _I miss the wild shit my friends and I would get up to in my dimension. Demons as a whole aren’t social beings, but we form alliances, bonds, what humans would call ‘friendships’ on occasion._ Some very weird, neon-colored memories flickered in and out of the headspace. _I remember this one time we caused a paradoxical quadri-dimensional shift and we ended up in the year 5 million in an alternate galaxy with no idea how to get back home, it took us at_ least _a decade to even get out of that universe and even_ more _to get back to the right time period! Totally crazy...ah, listen to me waxing nostalgic._

Dipper grinned. _You have friends?_

Bill shoved him.

“Hey, ow!” he complained as he stumbled and nearly fell onto the asphalt. “Dick, I was just joking.”

“You’ve never been one for comedy, little tree, that’s more your sister’s thing.”

“What, I’m not funny?”

“You have the humor of a chunk of visually unappealing space junk,” said Bill very candidly. He patted Dipper on the shoulder. “Just stick to your books, kid. Being a nerd is your thing.”

Dipper jerked away from him, disgruntled. “Can you lay off me for _one day?_ We kinda just had a possible breakthrough in this problem that _you_ caused -”

“ _Excuse_ me? I didn’t cause anything, _Damian -”_

“And if you weren’t a person, we wouldn’t be wondering about the tattoo in the first place!”

“Well, whose fault is _that?”_

“I -! Wait, hang on,” said Dipper, stopping in the street. “Haven’t we already had this exact same argument?” he asked, exasperated. 

“Yes,” Bill replied simply, continuing to walk.

Dipper caught up with him. “Are we ever gonna stop fighting?”

“Let me do some mental calculations...nope.”

“I can’t say I expected anything different,” Dipper sighed, then shook it off. “Right, is there anything we wanted to do today?”

“Hm..you know what I haven’t done in a long time? Cocaine.”

“Okay, yeah, no, _anything_ but that. Come on.” Dipper grabbed Bill by his wrist. “Let’s just catch up with the girls.”

Bill glanced down at Dipper’s hand and smiled ever so slightly, a shadow passing over his eyes. His pulse was slow and steady.

“Lead the way, little tree.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've been editing previous chapters a /lot/ so if u ever feeling like re-reading, everything is better now!
> 
> (and for the code at the top, the keyword is BETRAYAL.)


	20. Chapter Nineteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'd like to make a shoutout to the person who messaged me on twitter saying that they linked this fic to their sister because i wrote about portland and their sister lives in portland and she wanted to read it, therefore sending porn to their sister, because i laughed really hard. also shoutout to said sister, please don't think differently/worse of your sibling because of what they read.
> 
> \--  
> VMIH JWYJ QZMWYLW UWWWW LVH QZCV WYMQAPA GDZAIJ; WMENP GSMC TSNPZW TPPMFO.
> 
> (keywords are formatted slightly differently in the text, try to spot them.)

Midnight wasn’t a good time to be in an airport. In fact, it was kind of an awful time. The only people there are grumpy businessmen and the occasional exhausted, angry couple with a sleeping kid in a stroller or in their arms. Most of the shops are closed, including one of the only two coffee shops in the entire airport, along with all of the restaurants, excepting a Burger King.

But as bad as midnight happened to be at the PDX airport, one in the morning was worse.

“I’m gonna get some coffee, want anything?”

Dipper blinked a couple times before glancing up at Pacifica. Her foundation couldn’t hide the slight bags under her eyes, and the worry line between her eyebrows was more pronounced than usual. Her bangs were pinned back and out of her face.

“Uh, yeah, sure, get me a vanilla latte. Hang on, I have some cash -”

She waved it off. “I got it. Just buy me something when we get to Austin.”

He smiled as much as he could considering his face was as exhausted as the rest of him. “Thanks.”

She nodded and marched off. Conveniently enough, the coffee stand only one terminal down was closed, and the open one was halfway across the airport. They knew this because they had stopped there on the way in.

Their flight was supposed to leave at 8 - they would have preferred an earlier one, but it was the first flight to Austin and they wanted to get there as soon as possible - and it had already been delayed for five hours. According to the flight attendant, the plane wouldn’t touch down until 2.

Mabel was asleep, draped across two seats with her head resting against a bundle of both her and Pacifica’s sweaters. Bill was asleep next to Dipper on their row of seats and kept kicking him no matter how many times Dipper tried to shove his feet out of the way. His eyebrows were furrowed sharply in his sleep and occasionally his hands would twitch or an angry expression would cross his face. Dipper could tell through the headspace that he was dreaming about something violent, but he couldn’t determine an exact situation. There were flashes of what looked like fire, some bright neon madness. Incomprehensible.

He continued reading the book he had brought from home, a sci-fi-ish adventure novel that managed to keep getting darker the more he got into it, as he was never able to sleep in public places. This, and he figured that at least one of them should be awake to make sure none of their stuff got stolen, even though there was hardly anybody else in the airport.

Pacifica came back about ten minutes later holding their coffees. She handed his to him - he mumbled a thanks - and then sat down next to Mabel. She pulled out a magazine and put in her earbuds and sat back to while away another hour or so.

Dipper prepared for the same. He was actually glad that Bill had fallen asleep; he antagonized him enough when they _weren’t_ stuck in an airport for going on six hours.

The clock on his phone read 1:14. He yawned and drank about a third of his coffee in one go.

 

“Are we there yet?”

“That’s the fourth time you’ve asked me, and the answer is still no.”

“ _Ugh,_ ” Bill grumbled, crossing his legs. “How long _is_ this flight?”

“Four hours.” Dipper turned a page of his book. “Just listen to music or something.”

“Let me ask you something.”

Dipper sighed and looked up, glancing over at Bill. “Okay, what?” he asked, resigning himself to what would probably be just more bullshit.

“What are your plans after this is over?”

Dipper frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean? There are no _plans._ We go home and just...live our lives.” He shrugged. “If more crazy shit happens, then it happens, but I’m not about to go _looking_ for anything. I mean, we didn’t exactly go looking for this.”

Bill was skeptical. “Really? After everything that’s happened, you’re just going to try and live a boring, ordinary human life?”

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Dipper replied a little defensively. He shifted in his seat. “I’ve had enough with all of this stuff.”

“You don’t think you’d get bored with normalcy?” Bill asked, his eyes wide with innocence despite the other emotion in his voice.

“I - I mean, maybe, but there’s ways to make life interesting without...y’know.” _Going up against literal demons trying to kill us,_ he finished in the headspace.

_So you want supernatural things out of your life completely, is that what you’re saying?_

_No, I’m - well,_ you’re _here, so not everything, exactly, but - I mean, I’ve had paranormal shit going on for so long, I’d like a break from all of that._ Still, nagging doubts poked Dipper somewhere far back in his brain, warnings of _boredom_ and _no way to prove yourself_ and _you won’t be useful anymore._

He tried to shake them off, but they swarmed like horsef **lies**. _Shut up,_ he told himself, irritated, _you don’t need to prove yourself. You won’t get bored. You_ are _useful._

Bill’s presence hovered patiently in the shared headspace, close to the surface of the depths of their shared subconsciousness. More and more, Dipper was struggling with figuring out what was _his_ and what was _Bill’s_ and what was _theirs._ Sometimes he would wake up and confuse his memories with Bill’s, or his dreams, or his TV show preferences. Sometimes they said things in unison because _they_ had been thinking it, not one or the other. And this closeness, their legs almost touching on the seats, inches from each other, was electrifying, magnets desperately yearning for their corresponding half.

_Do I really want to live a normal life? Never involve myself in the supernatural ever again? Forget about the journals and everything Grunkle Ford studied and just...do regular stuff?_

He felt Bill’s presence shift. _Would he make my life more exciting, is that what he’s saying? Offering? No, he didn’t even mention anything, that’s not it._ Still, the doubts persisted. What if he did get too bored? What if he felt useless, unintelligent, unneeded, unwanted? What if all of the old jealousy came back and he and Mabel started fighting again?

Dipper was snapped out of his subconscious when he heard a slight creaking noise and glanced over to see Bill pushing the armrest up.

_Sit closer to me. It’ll feel better._

Dipper was too tired to do more than give Bill a disparaging look before reluctantly unbuckling his seatbelt (the sign wasn’t lit) and scooting over to rest his head against Bill’s shoulder. The headspace bloomed a gorgeous shade of green when their skin touched.

_Well?_

_Yeah, it does._

Bill wrapped his arm around Dipper’s shoulders. _Are you nervous?_

_A little._

_It’ll be fine, quit worrying._

_You said that last time and look what happened._

_Okay, so I’m not always 100% accurate. But seriously, we’ve been training, we’ve been protecting your mind, it’s gonna be fine._

Some of the green fuzzed out into a grayish color of suspicion. _Why’re you being so nice?_

_Am I not allowed to be nice?_

_You are, but it’s weird. Just be a douche like normal._

Bill yawned. _Too tired. I’m gonna pass out on you now._

_Whatever. I’ll try to sleep too._

_Want me to help?_

_You can do that?_

_Sure, I’ll just tap into that part of your brain. Hang on._

Bill’s presence in the headspace disappeared only to reappear somewhere else in Dipper’s head. _Can you tell where I am? Unlock it._

 _Er, okay._ It took some searching, but eventually Dipper was able to locate the right part of his brain and take down the walls he had constructed.

Almost immediately, he felt seconds away from sleep. _What’d you do?_ he asked.

_Just altered something. I’m cold, do you have a jacket?_

_Yeah._ Yawning, Dipper was able to reach down under his seat and pull a hoodie out of his backpack. He tossed it to Bill, who pulled it on and beckoned him back over. The headspace glowed green again.

_Okay, can I sleep now?_

_Yeah._

 

“Distinguished guests, we are approaching Austin. Please buckle your seatbelts, return your seats to the upright and locked positions, and put your tray tables up. Thank you.”

The attendant’s voice was loud through his microphone and Dipper awoke with a start. He rubbed his eyes and blinked, then struggled to sit upright and fix everything. He was reluctant to move at all, but remembered that he had a hotel bed to look forward to once they touched down.

 _But isn’t it going to be, like, eight in the morning when we fly in?_ Bill pointed out; he, too, had woken up with the voice of the flight attendant.

Dipper made a face. _I don’t care, I’m taking a nap anyway, and if you wake me up I’ll -_

 _No need to threaten me, I won’t wake you up. You’re so needlessly aggressive,_ Bill chided him. _If you have issues concerning the rigid terms by which humans define masculinity and your ability to be assertive, you don’t have to let them out on_ me. _And trust me, you have them._

 _Shut the hell up._ Dipper buckled his seatbelt but moved back over so their shoulders were touching. _I’m not done sleeping._ He rested his head on Bill’s shoulder, assuming his earlier position.

 _You’re so demanding,_ Bill commented disapprovingly, but the headspace brimmed with the variants of colors that Dipper knew meant _victory._ Ignoring this and the sudden churning he felt in his stomach, he shut his eyes against the fabric of the hoodie.

 _How long did I sleep?_ he asked.

_Two n’ a half hours. We both did._

_Any interesting dream stuff going on?_

_Not with you, but I sent out some pretty good nightmares tonight. In this one of them it was like a mashup of that movie Alien and one of the Saw films -_

_Ugh, that’s disgusting, get that shit out of there._ Dipper pushed and shoved the thoughts away, knocking them into Bill’s personal headspace. _You know I hate gore._

_Yeah, I know. So, we go to the hotel, we sleep, then what?_

_Then I guess I’ll email Omar and set up a meeting._

_Can we do something fun tonight?_

_Like what, explore Austin’s crazy night life?_

_No need to sound so sarcastic, I looked earlier, there’s plenty of clubs. We’re going out._

_Why do you like partying so much?_

_Parties are chaos,_ Bill replied simply. _I told you, I get power from chaos._

_Uh-huh. Fair enough, I guess. But no drugs, we’ve gone over this many times._

_Fine. But you can’t stop me from drinking!_

_I guess I can’t. Play some music._

_Sure._

Something electronic that Dipper vaguely recognized played softly in the headspace, and he found himself drifting into some soft gray area between awake and asleep where he floated in endless clouds of teal-green. He could feel them under his arms, like fluffy cushions, but when he tried to turn and look, he couldn’t see his body at all.

Slowly and calmly he understood that he was fully immersed in the headspace, that his _body_ as he knew it was somewhere else, that he was in his mind and he was _only_ his mind, nothing more. The music was all around him just as much as it was inside his head. For the first time in a long time, he felt _peaceful,_ actually relaxed. It didn’t matter that there was a demon in his head. It felt normal. It was fine.

All too soon, Dipper opened his eyes at the sudden swooping feeling in his stomach that meant that the plane was descending. He was back in his body and he had never really left it.

“Weird,” he mumbled, his cheek smashed against Bill’s shoulder.

“What’s weird?”

“When did you wake up?”

“Second ago.”

“Were you in the headspace too?”

Bill shook his head. “Nah, I fell back to sleep. You did something else.” He didn’t say anything more, and Dipper didn’t push it, only leaned down to shove stuff into his backpack.

It took another half hour for them to touch down in Austin and get off of the plane. The sun was annoyingly bright outside the windows and Dipper looked forward to falling asleep in a room with the blinds drawn.

A taxi took them to their hotel, another Marriott. Mabel, who had gotten the most sleep out of all of them, was the only one pleasant and coherent enough to check them in and get their keys, then manage to guide the other three up to their rooms.

Despite having stumbled down the hallway and nearly run into the wall on the way to the room, Dipper found himself wide awake when he lay in one of the two beds. Maybe it was jetlag, maybe anxiety, maybe he was missing that closeness from earlier, the beautiful green of the headspace that was two halves becoming a whole.

 _You can sleep with me,_ Bill offered, but his mental laughter had a cruel streak to it.

Dipper rolled over and faced the wall. _You wish._

 

_He was running, running down an empty street, leaping over cracks in the pavement, he was barely breathing and he was losing the feeling in his legs -_

_He didn’t want to look behind him because he knew they would be there, black and elongated and cold, but he had to see how far behind him they were, to see if he could slow down, if he had to speed up; he had to know._

_He dared to glance over his shoulder, preparing to see the black hands grabbing for his hair and his clothes, to see Damian himself standing in front of a sphere of glowing purple-blue light laughing maniacally but - nothing._

_Dipper slowed to a stop, skidding across the pavement, and gave his breathing a chance to catch up with the rest of him. He kept his eyes on the direction where he had come from, expecting the black hands to come streaking out of the darkness. Still, nothing._

_Then, a peculiar sound from behind him. He turned around, his whole body shaking, to see that the sky was literally tearing itself apart._

_He stumbled and fell backwards, bracing his hands on the ground. He was frozen in horror; he couldn’t blink, he couldn’t close his mouth, he couldn’t get up and run away from whatever was happening._

_It was morbid, some kind of_ blood _dripping from the jagged edges of the great X that had appeared. Somewhere past the clouds of the night were some horrible, unreal flashes of bright yellow and red and blue and lightning that wasn’t lightning. Worst of all were the clamoring noises of_ something _beyond the rip, something that he knew in the very core of his being was the definition of hellish. And the sounds were getting louder and louder; whatever it was, it was approaching fast._

_As he stared, terrified, at whatever the hell was happening, a voice rang out from behind him, and he jumped._

_“This is what awaits you if you follow the path you continue to take.”_

_He turned around, shaking. Damian was barely ten feet from him and standing with his arms folded across his chest and the black arms writhing behind him._

_He shook his head and brushed some stray hairs from his forehead. “This is your destiny, Mason Pines,” Damian said tragically. “Despite your resistance, despite all you try to do - this is what is coming.”_

_Dipper opened his mouth, but he couldn’t speak._

_“There is some comfort, though,” Damian added, and he smiled widely; his teeth were just as unnaturally sharp as Bill’s were. “You won’t be a victim of this disaster.”_

_Dipper frowned._

_“No, no. Not a victim. But,” he said in a sing-song, his smile widening even further, “you are the reason it exists!”_

_His words echoed like a gong in the empty, broken city as the sounds of the horror beyond the hole in the sky only grew louder. Damian just chuckled, looking up at the sky with a casual appreciation._

_The world began to shake, the pavement splitting apart into steaming cracks; the sky was turning a bloody shade of red; something awful tumbled out of the X and split open on the ground with a gruesome_ smack.

_Damian blew Dipper a kiss and turned to leave, his long coat rippling in the sudden wild wind, and Dipper tried to shout after him, to scream “WAIT!” but he was still mute, and he was stuck to the ground, he couldn’t move, couldn’t escape the horror that was coming, coming, coming coming and it was HIS FAULT -_

 

“Oi, Dip! You okay?” Mabel reached out and punched her brother lightly in the shoulder. “Quit spacing out, we all need to decide on a dinner place.”

He shook his head and blinked rapidly, rubbing his eyes. “Yeah, m’ fine, just jetlagged. Uh, I’m feeling Italian food -”

“Dipper, this is Texas,” Pacifica reminded him drolly, looking up from her phone. “If we want _quality,_ our options are limited when it comes to anything other than American and Mexican.”

Bill pointed across the street. “There’s a Thai place right over there.”

Pacifica glanced over at it and sniffed. “Oh, yeah, I trust a restaurant with no cars parked in its lot on a Friday night. _And,_ it’s not showing up on any of the websites I’m using.”

 _Picky girl,_ Bill commented, mildly irritated and amused.

_Understatement of the year, in my opinion._

“There’s a sushi place that has a lot of good reviews, it’s like a 20 minute drive away from here. I’ll get an Uber car.” Pacifica’s fingers raced across her phone.

“What’re we gonna do after dinner?” Mabel asked, glancing between Dipper and Pacifica.

Dipper gave a resigned sigh. “Well, Bill apparently wants to go to a club -”

“You bet your sweet ass I do!” said Bill jovially, wrapping an arm around Dipper’s waist and pulling him close; Dipper made a disgusted face but didn’t bother with struggling while Mabel stifled a giggle. “I was looking at some places and there’s this club called _Kingdom_ that looks fun. C’mon, have we gone out at _all_ since I’ve joined this family?”

“You are _not_ a part of this family, you fucking garbage fire -” Dipper started to retort, but Bill pulled at something far back in his nerves and he shut himself up with a short inhale, stumbling backwards.

 _What the hell?_ he thought, glaring over at Bill.

 _Ooh, that was fun. I’m gonna do_ that _more often._ “Well, familial status notwithstanding, we’re still going out tonight.”

“Fine,” Dipper muttered mutinously. _Stop fucking around in my head._

“I’m game!” said Mabel, nodding. A shrewd look crept upon her face and she casually added, “Maybe you can _meet somebody,_ Dip.”

The headspace buzzed like a disturbed hornet. “Huh? Oh, yeah, maybe. Not sure if I’m into the ‘little bit country’ crowd.”

Mabel laughed, shaking her head. “We’re in Austin, not in the middle of cowpoke territory.” She craned her head. “How’d she get so far ahead of us? _Pacifica!”_ she called.

The other people on the street turned to them out of a reflex and went back to their business a second later. Pacifica, who was about 20 feet ahead of them, turned around and hurried back.

“Sorry. Uber car’s coming, we can wait at that corner up there.” She nodded towards an intersection. “What’re we talking about?”

“You feel like going out tonight?” Bill asked. He had let go of Dipper, who was taking this chance to get as far away from him as possible without throwing himself into the street. “I was looking at a club that’s got pretty good reviews.”

“Sure, why not, I love getting to drink for free all night,” Pacifica replied, pushing some hair out of her face. She smirked. “When you’re a pretty girl, people just _give_ you things.”

“Must be nice,” Dipper remarked a little sullenly, still feeling the after effects of the interference in his nerves.

“It’s okay, bro, being pretty has its drawbacks,” said Mabel sagely, patting her brother on his shoulder.

When the Uber car came to pick them up, Pacifica got into the passenger’s seat next to the driver, a friendly man with an impressive mustache, and the other three clambered into the back.

Dipper yawned and reclined, crossing his legs but trying not to take up too much space, as he had ended up in the middle. A second later, he yawned again.

_Why are you tired? Did you not sleep well? Did you have nightmares? I didn’t see any nightmares -_

_Calm down, Jesus, I’m just tired. Back off. Why’re you so_ concerned?

 _Because nightmares would mean that Damian knows our location and that we_ should _be concerned. Duh._

_I guess. But we have the borders up and you can see all of my dreams, so we would know if there was a problem, right?_

_Still. I’ve been thinking about him lately._ Centuries-old memories swam around aimlessly in the headspace. Damian’s normal form bounced between them, a misty black sphere with a single purple eye and a permanently grinning mouth. _He’s become more powerful than I thought possible for one of his house and position. Some of it is his immortal body, sure, but he’s been training his psychokinetic abilities too, I can sense it. Y’see, it’s one thing for dream demons to project certain things into dreams, right? I’ve put things in your dreams, I’m sure you remember._

_All too well._

_Right. But it’s_ exceedingly _rare and very difficult for us to actively insert ourselves into dreams and interact with the people in them the way he has in your nightmares without being summoned at the time. And he’s_ spoken _to you -_ Bill’s fist clenched over his thigh and the headspace hummed with anger, white flashing at the edges. _I’m going to_ destroy _him._ Bloody images, now, ones that Dipper was, unfortunately, getting used to.

 _Okay, uh, gross. Why are demons so protective of their claims, anyway?_ Mabel leaned forward in her seat to talk to Pacifica and Dipper found himself sitting up against Bill’s shoulder. Because of Mabel’s position, he wasn’t able to move away enough to make it sufficiently not awkward.

_We’ve been over this, little tree, how would you react if somebody grabbed your phone and ran off with it?_

_I’m not a phone._

_You belong to me._

Mabel shifted enough for Dipper to scoot away and he instantly did so, staring firmly out the front window. _Okay, but what happens if I just, like, died? Like, say Damian kills me. Wouldn’t that actually be better for you? You’d be released from our contract. And, I mean, some dick steals your phone, you can buy a new one, right?_

_Didn’t you just say you weren’t a phone?_

_That’s the only metaphor you gave me to run with, man._

The headspace glowed with amusement. _Fair enough. I gotta say, you’re very ambivalent about the possibility of your own death._

_Well, it’s not like I want to die, but I mean, would it really matter for you if Damian killed me?_

_Of course it would matter. It would matter the world to me._

Dipper actually turned to look at Bill at this, genuinely taken aback by the simplicity and sincerity of his thoughts. _You’re serious?_

 _I’m serious. You don’t understand how important you are, little tree._ Bill gave a small nod. _Especially with this soul bond. Do you know how much pain I would go through if you died? I would also be sent back to my own dimension. When one side of the deal ends, so does the other, you know._

 _Right,_ Dipper thought, still taken aback by the fact that he actually _mattered_ to Bill. Even if it was just because he was his only tie to the physical realm and because he _belonged_ to him, it was something.

More importantly, it wasn’t dependent upon his abilities, his talents, or his strengths. He mattered for reasons beyond what he could do or write. He mattered because he was _him._

It was oddly touching, and it scared Dipper enough to turn away and go back to staring out the window. _So you’re really gonna drag me to a club tonight, huh?_ he asked dryly, changing the subject.

_Absolutely. You said yourself that you missed the city life sometimes!_

_I’ve never liked nightclubs._

_Well, maybe you’ll like this one. We can all get drunk and have a good time._

_I’m not babysitting you after you’ve had your fourth drink and you’re trying to talk to everybody in Swedish._

_Hmph, maybe you guys should just learn Swedish._

The sushi restaurant was fancy and rather expensive, as the group learned after they settled at their table in a private corner (at Pacifica’s request with the help of a 20) and were given menus.

Dipper had pulled out his laptop and was hunting for a Wi-fi network. Thankfully, there was a Starbucks just down the block that he caught a faint signal from.

“Should be enough for one email,” he muttered to himself, opening the mail app.

Mabel leaned over to him. “Whatcha doing?”

“Gonna send an email to that professor guy, set up a meeting time hopefully for tomorrow or the day after. If we’re getting drunk tonight, I’m not getting up before noon, I’ll say that now.” Dipper typed an introduction - _Hello, Professor Omar._ Simple. Still, he made a face at his laptop. He hated sending professional-sounding emails in high school and college and he hated it now.

 _My friends and I are in Austin, we just arrived this morning._ Sure, that was fine. _I’d like to arrange a meeting with you sometime in the next two days, as long as that works with your schedule. We are available any time after noon._

Dipper handed the laptop to Mabel. “Sound good?”

She scanned it and nodded, passing it back. “Yep. Sign it with _regards,_ I feel so adult-y when I say _regards.”_

Pacifica laughed, leaning forward with her hands folded under her chin. “You’ve been an adult for almost five years.”

“Yeah, but this is like the adult trial period, right? Like we’re still, like, minor adults. But after you’re done with the trial you _have_ to get the full software.” Mabel sighed tragically.

Dipper shook his head, typed _Regards, Mason Pines,_ and sent the email. “ _So_ not fair. I miss being a kid sometimes. We got up to so much shit.”

Mabel snorted. “ _We?_ Your idea of fun was playing D&D in the basement with your nerd friends on a Friday night.”

Pacifica stifled a derisive laugh and Dipper elbowed his sister in her ribs. “Shut up! If you tried playing it -”

“I did try! You just didn’t like the way I played.”

“You named your characters after guys in boy bands and then tried to defeat all the monsters with the power of _song.”_

“Clearly you're forgetting the three times _we_ defeated monsters with music,” Mabel retorted, folding her arms. “Checkmate.”

“Ugh. Still, that's not what being a druid means.”

 _Nerd._ Bill had been laughing mentally throughout the conversation.

 _You're a nerd, shut up,_ Dipper grumbled.

When the waitress came to take their drink orders, Dipper chose the drink with the highest alcohol content, his explanation being that he needed to be a little bit drunk before he went to clubs so he could actually tolerate them. The expenses were no big deal, as Pacifica was filthy stinking rich and the twins were riding off the money they got from all the gold they sold. Even after their student loans had been paid off, there was more than enough to get by.

By the time they were at dessert, everyone but Mabel was at least a little tipsy and laughing uproariously at some of Bill’s old stories. Even Pacifica let her ice queen persona melt away a bit to giggle, smiling like a real person, though that may have been an effect of the three cosmos she had had.

“Anyway,” said Bill after a rather lengthy bout of laughter from the other three, “that was when the bouncer kicked us out, but it was only 11, and it was New Years, right, so there was stuff going on _everywhere._ Dickinson’s friend was being an asshole, so we kinda ditched him by the side of the road.” He coughed. “In Atlantic City.”

“In _Atlantic City??_ But you were just in New York City!” said Mabel, shocked. “Wait, when did you get to Atlantic City?”

“Oh, did I skip that part? Yeah, we got on a train. But yeah, we left that guy in the middle of Boston, he was completely off his face, dunno what happened to him. So me n’ the other guys took a cab to another club, and I _might_ have stolen Dickinson’s wallet and run off with it -”

“Theft? Really?” said Dipper disparagingly. “How would that even help you? You were only in that guy’s body for three days.”

“It made Dickinson panic, and that’s chaotic,” Bill pointed out. “It’s like doing cocaine, except it lasts longer and you don’t feel like trash afterwards.” He checked the time on his phone. “Are we all done? We should head over to the club, they open soon and there’s probably a line, considering it’s Friday.”

“Yeah, let’s head out.” Pacifica beckoned their waitress over and waved off the twins’ offers to pay, reminding them that it was her dad’s money.

They all crammed into another Uber car to get to the club, Pacifica snagging shotgun again. This ride was significantly less awkwardly emotional, as Dipper and Bill were relatively tipsy and Mabel was chatty enough to keep things from getting weird.

She leaned over and ruffled Dipper’s hair. “You excited?”

He shoved her hand away. “Not even a little bit.” He hiccuped. “But I’ll tolerate it. For you.”

_And for me?_

_Nope._

Mabel sighed and leaned against Dipper, her head on his shoulder. “I wish you were, like, more muscular, then if some dude gets too creepy I can just be like ‘that’s my brother and he’ll mess you up if you take one step closer!’”

“Mabel, you know _krav maga.”_

“Yeah, but I’m wearing heels and a cute dress, I don’t wanna get blood on it.” Up front, Pacifica laughed.

Bill leaned over to say, “Don’t worry, ‘Star, I can be your _manly protector._ Shoot me a signal and that creep’ll find himself floating headless in an alternate universe for all of eternity.”

Mabel beamed. “ _Really?”_

“‘Course!”

“It’s just a joke they have,” Pacifica explained to the driver, who had probably reacted to Bill’s statement, considering how it sounded completely outlandish and insane to anyone out of the loop on what he was.

_So you’re protective of Mabel too?_

_Not as much as with you, but yeah, I have a claim on her, I don’t want her getting injured or anything, and I’ll fight for her against Damian if I need to._

_Then at least we agree on something._

The car pulled up to the curb outside of the club just as the sun was sinking below the horizon. As Bill had predicted, there was already a line forming in front of the entrance, where an intimidating bouncer stood ready to kick out cheapskates and minors.

“You have your fake ID, right?” Dipper asked Bill in an undertone as they got out of the car.

“Yep! Gotta say, I was surprised to know that you knew somebody who made these,” Bill commented. He dug in his pocket for his wallet and pulled it out, displaying the remarkably well done fake ID that read _William Cesar._ His birth date was listed as June 6th, 1999.

“Yeah, well, I know shady people. Unfortunately. Almost got robbed once.”

Once the club actually opened, the line moved surprisingly fast, and it only took a few minutes of casual conversation for the group of four to get to the door. The bouncer glanced at their IDs and ushered them in without any further ado.

“You ready?” Mabel asked her brother brightly as they passed the coat check. “C’mon, it’ll be fun!”

He forced a smile for her benefit. “Yeah, sure.”

Mabel turned her smile on Pacifica, who seemed to shy away slightly before smiling back, genuine and pure, like Dipper had seen before. They were becoming more and more common with her as they all spent time together, despite her usual cool demeanor. Real feeling, emotion.

Dipper didn’t know why he expected to see the same in Bill’s face when he turned to him, seeing as he couldn’t even experience most emotions, but some part of him was disappointed all the same when all he saw was the beginnings of a smirk and the same fool’s gold in his eyes.

 _What?_ Bill asked innocently, as if he wasn’t aware.

Dipper shook his head roughly and followed Mabel and Pacifica through the doors and into wild, wild noise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just wanted to say that i am amazed at how many likes i got since the last update like what happened?? needless to say i'm so glad that y'all are enjoying this, thank you so much for all the feedback.
> 
> sexual content next chapter.


	21. Chapter Twenty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the usual smut warnings for dubcon, dom/sub, mind manipulation, coercion. there is more manipulation in this one tho. skip this chapter or read with caution.  
> \--  
> SWBH NWLW RWYPAE GLQQE SDLRVE.

They had been at the club for exactly 15 minutes, and Dipper was already bored.

One wouldn’t think so from popular media, but clubs sucked. It was way too loud, the bass makes your ears hurt after a while, it all smells like sweat and cheap perfume, the drinks are three times the price of those at the bar one block away, and if you’re not a hot girl, good luck getting anywhere close to the bartender.

Dipper had taken advantage of being with two attractive girls to snag a Highland Cooler and a beer when they had gotten to the front of the line, then had taken his drinks and sprinted to a raised balcony, where he could sit on a cushy chair and drink and not be bothered.

 _You’re missing out!_ Bill thought, his mental voice a sing-song.

Dipper put his feet up on a small table. _Sure I am._

_Come on, you gotta dance._

_I don’t have to do anything._

_I’ll send ‘Star after you._

_Ugh, really? You’re evil._

_I have to find her first, but I’ll do it._

Dipper sighed. _L_ _emme finish these drinks, then I'll consider it._

_You sure you don’t wanna come down here? I bumped into these guys and we chatted a bit and we’re gonna do tequila shots -_

Dipper nearly choked on his drink and coughed loudly. _Okay, one: absolutely not, two: how did you not freak them out, and three: you’re already tipsy,_ please _don’t do tequila shots. I will literally get on my hands and knees if it keeps you from doing tequila shots._

_As much as I like seeing you in that position, we just bought them. And I’ll have you know I’m perfectly capable of talking to strangers._

_What are you even talking about??_

_Well, it started with some general small talk, but now we’re talking about Breaking Bad._

_Okay, have fun with all that, I’m not even coming near you until the end of the night._

_Relax, we only got two for each of us. I’ll be fine._

_I hate it when you’re drunk, though, you’re so clingy and destructive, which really isn’t a good combo._

A pause.

_If I don’t do the shots, will you come dance with me?_

Dipper scowled and ran a hand through his hair, then chugged half the beer at once. _I guess,_ he thought resentfully.

_See, we can reach a compromise. We’re good at that._

_Why do you want me down there so badly, exactly?_

_Do you really not feel any discomfort right now?_

If Dipper made an attempt to tune out the noises of the club, the music and talking and the whir of fans, along with his own inebriation, he could feel the first twinges of pain that would worsen in intensity the longer he and Bill were apart. They were small, like getting pricked with a needle, but they would grow.

_Okay, fair enough. I’m gonna finish my drinks, so go do whatever._

_Fine. Get down here soon._ The headspace went black on both of their ends; neither of them wanted their thoughts spied on in that moment.

Dipper closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair, trying to relax. Unfortunately, at the moment, his brain was giving him two options: _Worry about Damian_ or _be consumed by your own introversion._ Of course, there was always both, but no possible way for him to simply leave those behind and enjoy himself.

He took a long drink of his cocktail and looked out at the dancing. He couldn’t see Bill, or Mabel, or Pacifica, only a massive anonymous conglomerate. The crowd over at the bar was only getting larger, and he pitied the bartender.

As much as he absolutely did not want to go into that sweaty mass, his thoughts were starting to irritate him, and that would be a nice distraction. They swam in circles, bounced off the walls he created, collided, burst apart, dripped down the walls and into his heart, into the pit of his stomach.

It was so _wrong._ He was finally starting to understand the way his heart jumped like a frenzied animal whenever Bill looked at him, touched him, was close to him at all. It wasn’t love, _thank God,_ because he had known love with past relationships, or at least love’s beginnings. No, it was _craving._ It was a deep emotional craving born from the symbiotic nature of the soul bond. Their souls were one, they belonged together, and, as Dipper was horrified to realize, he _needed_ Bill. But did Bill need him? Fundamentally, maybe, as a lifeline, but did he feel the same senseless longing for closeness? Did he, too, want nothing more than to let Dipper bury himself in his arms until this mess was over?

It was more wrong than anything Dipper had ever done, had ever felt. He felt wretched, ashamed. He finished his cocktail in seconds, desperately wanting the alcohol to kick in so he could forget about this. There was already a nice, pleasant buzz humming around where these deep, introspective thoughts were housed, effectively quieting them down, but he wanted them completely silenced. He wanted them dead and gone.

He checked that all of his mental barriers were up and that they had remained solid throughout his few painful seconds of self-reflection. They were fine.

“Excuse me, are you with someone?”

Dipper shook his head briefly to clear it and glanced in the direction of the voice, replying, “No, no, I’m alone.”

In the dim light, he could only tell that the person talking to him was a young man, his hair pushed back and slightly off to the side. _Almost like Damian’s,_ he thought, a little uneasy at the memory.

“Why -?” he began, but the man interrupted him by saying, “Sorry, I thought - because you have two drinks.”

Dipper remembered he had both an empty glass and ⅓ of a beer bottle in front of him. “Oh. Oh. Yeah, I, uh, knew I wasn’t gonna get to the bartender for a while, I mean, look at that mess.” He gestured over the side of the balcony at the floor below and at the poor bartender being mobbed.

The stranger craned his head to see and laughed. “Damn, that sucks.”

“Yeah, I only got these ‘cause I came in with my sister and her friend and bartenders serve girls first, to last for the next few hours. Though I’ve been alternating between the two of these, so I kinda ruined my own plan.” Dipper paused. “Did you, uh, want something?” he asked.

The stranger shifted awkwardly on his feet. He was wearing a slightly tousled button-down that might have been gray, color lost in the darkness of the club, his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “I was just, er, gonna ask you to dance. But if you’re still drinking…”

 _Shocked_ couldn’t even begin to describe the series of emotions that caused Dipper’s worries to come screeching to a halt. _Okay, hold the phone. This stranger - a very cute stranger - wants to dance with_ me?? _Out of everyone in this club??_

Perhaps it was because the alcohol was hitting him all at once, but he saw nothing wrong with the situation.

The stranger was backing away, saying, “If you’re straight, I’m really sorry, I was just -” 

“No, I - yeah, let’s dance,” said Dipper almost forcefully, standing up. He and the stranger were about the same height and so he could easily see his eyes. They were a deep hazel color; _normal. Human._

The stranger grinned, relieved. “Okay, so you’re _not_ straight, my gaydar isn’t _completely_ awful.”

“Nope, not straight. I’m Dipper - er, my first name is Mason, but everybody’s been calling me that since I was, like, six,” Dipper replied. He was looking slightly off to one side, possibly in disbelief. “So, uh. You can. Too.”

“I’m Jordan,” said the stranger. He gestured down at the floor and said, “I’d have offered to buy you a drink first, but I wouldn’t battle through all that for _anybody._ ”

Dipper laughed a bit too loudly and covered it up with a cough. “I’m personally offended,” he joked, and Jordan laughed in reply. His laughter was so _different_ than what Dipper had gotten used to. There was no trace of mockery or sarcasm; he was genuine, he was kind, he was a _person._

God, he had missed talking to _people._

Jordan extended a hand. Dipper, too lost in thought, took a moment before tentatively reaching for him. Their hands folded together and there was nothing.

 _Nothing._ Dipper’s heart leaped into a miniature panic. Incredibly cute guy, interested in him, sweet, funny, _normal -_ nothing. Nothing compared to the great bursts of beautiful teal green that he had experienced over the last week or so, whenever his and Bill’s hands brushed or their knees touched or when Bill had his teeth in Dipper’s shoulder and his hands digging into his thighs. Compared to that, anything was nothing.

His hand unwillingly clenched around Jordan’s and Jordan asked, “You okay?”

Dipper shook himself out of it, a peculiar feeling high in his head. “Yeah, I’m fine, sorry. Would you believe me if I said this has never happened to me before?”

“Really? Well, it is Texas,” said Jordan with a shrug.

“Oh, I’m from Oregon, actually.”

“So you’re a tourist here?” Jordan grinned. “You came to the wrong city if you want the true Texas experience.”

“No, I’m, uh, visiting someone. So are you in school?” Dipper asked, trying to keep things light, trying to not think about everything too much. The alcohol was helping, but it was also making him trip down the stairs.

“Yeah, I’m in my senior year at UT, you?”

“Graduated this year from UO. What’re you majoring in?”

“Archaeology with a minor in anthropology, you?”

“Forensics with a minor in filmmaking.” Jordan’s hand was warm, not unnaturally hot. There was no darkness in his expression. Still nothing. Dipper forced himself not to look away.

“What, are you gonna direct a crime drama?” Jordan quipped.

“I actually did kinda want to make an X Files-esque show, like, aliens and supernatural stuff?” Dipper said, gesturing vaguely with his free hand.

“Really? That’s awesome, I _loved_ the X Files, I remember my dad bought it when it first came out on DVD, like, the whole series, and I kinda grew up watching it, it’s so great.”

“I know, right? It’s so good, my sister doesn’t get it but I’ve kind of marathoned it at least four times.”

“Same sister that’s here?”

“Yeah, she’s my twin, actually.” They had made it downstairs and had to yell for their voices to be heard over the raucous combo of electronic beats, heavy bass, and other people shouting. They were just outside of the main mass of people and around a few people on their phones and a couple making out against a wall.

Jordan gestured towards the thick of the dancing and Dipper nodded with no restraint. The alcohol was in his veins now, was heavy in his head and his limbs. Some of those thoughts had been pushed aside, shoved out of the headspace and locked away for them to re-emerge later, but a few were still poking him incessantly.

He looked over at Jordan again, his hazel eyes and his short hair and his dusting of facial hair and his smile, and decided he didn’t care that the headspace felt nothing. It was a bold rejection of what he knew to be true; the first daring, retaliative act he had done in ages.

He allowed Jordan to pull him forward. The headspace hummed.

Everything was a blur. The lights, the music, the dancing people, all a mess. Jordan’s face swam slightly in front of him. He grinned brazenly, bumped into a larger man, and nearly fell over, only staying up because of his grip on Jordan’s hand and almost tripping onto him in the process. The headspace rumbled, an earthquake in his head, white and blue and purple flooding together. His eyes met Jordan’s and he knew he didn’t imagine the way his pupils dilated.

It was then that he remembered. “Oh, fuck.”

Jordan tilted his head, a silent question, and pointed to his ears.

So Dipper leaned closer to him and said, “I don’t know how to dance!” The headspace lurched forward along with him.

Jordan laughed. “It’s easy!” he shouted, due to the noise. “Just move back and forth a bit! Move to the beat!”

“Easier said than done!” Dipper shouted in reply, and backed away slightly.

“Then I can help.” Jordan’s hands were around his waist before he could even make a poor attempt at dancing alone. The purple in the headspace faded to a pale lavender, then a bright white. It gave Dipper a headache, and he pushed it away.

He moved a little awkwardly with Jordan as they “danced”; it was kind of difficult to move with Jordan’s hold on his waist, more so when his hands trailed lower to his hips.

Surprised and embarrassed, he glanced up at Jordan. After a few seconds of looking startled, Jordan quickly took his hands away and mouthed _sorry,_ looking mortified.

Making up his mind, Dipper shook his head energetically and reached out to grab Jordan’s wrists, moving his hands back. His own were shaking. Jordan’s expression was replaced by an easy smile and Dipper was aware that their faces were inches apart.

Jordan gripped his waist tighter, keeping them at their meager distance. Dipper’s head was filled with the haze of defiance and inebriation and a desperate denial. Who _cares_ if Jordan’s hands weren’t hot and he wasn’t holding onto Dipper like he _owned_ him and there was no real passion, no real emotion in his heart and the pit of his stomach. He needed to escape, to forget, to ignore, at least for these few foggy seconds with his arms heavy as lead as he moved to rest his hands on Jordan’s chest, or his shoulders, or something.

And then his phone buzzed from his back pocket. Once, twice, a third time, meaning somebody was calling him.

Part of him sent up a silent prayer of thanks when he reached behind him to check his phone, while another part of him was rather disappointed.

He checked the ID. It was Mabel calling him. Frowning, he answered it and held it up to his ear, saying, “What’s going on?” without even hearing himself. He mouthed _my sister_ to Jordan, who nodded.

He had to turn up the volume all the way to hear her reply. “I couldn’t find you, so I was just gonna say that Paz and I are gonna be here for a while, so if you want to go home you can! I saw Bill earlier and he looked pretty out of it.” Mabel giggled. “Maybe you should get him home.”

“Er, out of it?”

“Well, I tried to call out to him, but either he couldn’t hear me or he wasn’t listening, he was just staring really intensely at his drink. Dunno how drunk he is, but we don’t want him to get into trouble.”

“We definitely don’t. Okay, I can, uh, I’ll go find him soon.” He was starting to feel those pinpricks of discomfort in the headspace again. “If he wants to leave, we can leave, we’ll catch up with you guys later.”

“Okay! Text me or call me when you leave. Bye!”

“Bye.” Dipper ended the call and put his phone back in his pocket. The majority of the haze in his head was gone, chased away by Mabel’s very real voice and the feeling of his phone screen against his face. He broke down one of his walls in the headspace and asked, _Hey, where are you?_

Silence.

_Just how drunk are you?? Did you do those shots??_

Silence.

Dipper rolled his eyes and turned back to Jordan, who looked a little bemused but not put off.

“Sorry!” he said loudly over the noise. “My friend B - Will is here with us and he might be completely off his face, so I’m gonna have to go looking for him later.”

“Oh, alright, no worries.” A few awkward seconds passed before Jordan stepped forward and closed the distance between them again, hands on his waist, barely six inches away from each other.

The headspace was still very blank, and Dipper was starting to get anxious. It had never been this quiet for this long, even when Bill was asleep, nor so absent of the explosive colors and emotions he was used to. Was Bill so completely fucking drunk that he was passed out in a corner or a bathroom?

He glanced at Jordan, meeting his eyes. Hazel. Natural. Yellow wasn’t natural. _Don’t think about him._ His face wasn’t the same and his teeth weren’t the same and his eyebrows weren’t the same and - _stop. This is stupid. It doesn’t matter._ It wouldn’t be the same. _It doesn’t matter!_

The headspace awoke. It glowed red and orange like lava, bubbled white and hot. Dipper felt a prickling feeling on the back of his head and angled his head slightly to see that Bill was easily pushing his way through the crowd, his expression neutral. There was a sudden rush of exhilarating emotions that Dipper’s inebriated mind couldn’t place, and he found himself staring. He felt Jordan’s hands slacken at his  waist.

He thought he spotted a flash of red in Bill’s eyes as he approached, and one of the emotions presented itself: _fear._

Then Bill was only a few feet away from him and he turned around and took a few dream-like steps to meet him, stopping short and nearly tripping again.

“Let’s go home,” Bill said, his voice calm and steady, the eye of the hurricane. “I’m bored.” The headspace continued to rumble.

“Uh, y-yeah, okay. Mabel -”

“- is gonna stay longer with Pacifica, yeah, I heard.” He jerked his head. “C’mon, let’s get out of here.”

“Er, I - okay. H-hang on.” Dipper stumbled back over to Jordan and said hurriedly, “Listen, I’m really sorry, but I’m - I’m leaving, but it was nice meeting you.”

Jordan, who had probably had a much different picture in mind when he imagined the end of the night, looked a little disappointed as he nodded, but he still smiled. “You too. Hey, enjoy Austin.” His eyes were trained behind Dipper’s shoulder, on Bill.

“I’ll do my best,” Dipper replied weakly, and then there was a hot hand around his wrist and he was being pulled away. People seemed to avoid them subconsciously, leaving them a clear pathway to the exit. In the headspace, Bill’s mind was still a black, blank slate. It was his own emotions that were bouncing off his mental walls and creating the fiery ambiance.

Then they were outside and Bill was saying, “I already got a car.” Dipper nodded. He wanted desperately to ask why Bill’s mind was blank, why his facial expression had hardly changed. His hair was wild and messed up, the top three buttons of his shirt were open, his sleeves were pushed up to his elbows. He appeared to be _glowing,_ but Dipper blamed this on the alcohol.

The car ride was fast; Bill had handed the driver an extra 10. The headspace continued to be quiet and still. But the dreamlike quality of the night began to fade as they drove out to the hotel, passing darkened buildings and vibrant bars, the inebriation starting to wear off, and Dipper’s formerly slow heart began to thump against his ribcage violently. Their hands were touching on the seat between them and _there_ was the sensation he was craving, there was the burst of green and the soft feeling that seemed to start in his toes and flood his veins up to his head. It was a rush, a high, something to make him hate himself a little less in that moment.

It didn’t stop when they got out of the car and he realized that Bill was actually holding his hand, their fingers laced firmly together, almost tight enough to hurt. Dipper’s thoughts echoed hollowly in the headspace as he stared at Bill’s hand holding his, stumbling after Bill as they moved towards the doors.

The brief elevator ride seemed to pass instantly, mere seconds, but seconds where Dipper could feel the first hints of something in his nerves, something twisting and prodding and pushing enough for his inhales to get a little sharper, enough to bite his tongue. _Don’t do that,_ he thought rather feebly. He didn’t want it, but _God,_ he needed it.

Bill’s mouth twitched slightly in response but he said nothing, out loud and in the headspace.

Then they were in the hall and in the room and the lights turned on and dimmed by themselves and Bill let go of Dipper’s hand, then grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and practically slammed him against the wall. His eyes were flickering red again, all the anger that had sparked at the club catching fire, and his teeth seemed even sharper than usual when he said, “You think I didn’t see that? You’re _cheeky,_ Pine Tree. Thought you worked out your rebellious streak a long time ago, but it looks like that little delinquent is still there somewhere.”

Dipper’s hands flew to Bill’s arm, his body light with sudden panic. “I’m - I’m n -”

“Do you _still_ not understand? And _I_ was under the apparent misconception that you were the _smart_ one. You’re _mine.”_

Dipper’s breath caught in his throat at the words and he clenched his fists. “Not with humans!” he managed to retort. “That’s just for demons -”

Bill scoffed. “You think I was glossing over 99.99% of the humanoid population when I said I would never let anyone else touch you?” he sneered, his face barely centimeters from Dipper’s.

“I - well -” Dipper stammered, flushing at their closeness. That lovely green still glowed in the headspace.

“How did you think _I_ felt when I saw some random human with his disgusting hands on you, and his _thoughts_ -” Bill bared his teeth in fury. “I could have ripped him apart then and there.”

Revolted, Dipper leaned back, his head hitting the wall. “He didn’t do anything!”

“He wanted you, and that’s enough. I granted him mercy, little tree. I didn’t hurt him. I didn’t even _touch_ him.” With no warning, Bill’s mouth was on his neck, his hands up his shirt, and Dipper tried to struggle, he really did, but there was no use at all. He could feel the fervor in the headspace now, the familiar scarlet haze, and knew he was no longer able to fight.

“Giving up already?” Bill murmured into the hollow above his collarbone. “Are you _that_ weak? Can I bring you to your knees this easily?”

Dipper shook his head the best he could and pinned his fists against the wall. “You can’t - you can’t act like that, like this, you can’t do this -”

“I can do _whatever_ I want to you, little tree.” The words were pressed onto his collarbone. “You are _mine.”_

With a shock to his senses, Dipper found himself pulling his shirt over his head and dropping it, then wrapping his arms around Bill’s neck and responding in kind when he kissed him. His mind had been _hijacked,_ it wasn’t _him_ kissing Bill and moaning into his mouth when Bill grabbed him around the waist and brought their hips together, none of it was him. But the poking and prodding in his nerves had increased in strength and speed and he didn’t care, everything felt so _good_ with Bill in control, it didn’t matter.

And then his control was back and he lurched forward with the re-realization of his own limbs and brain. Bill kept one hand on the small of his back, fisted the other in his hair and yanked it back. Dipper gasped out a tiny “ _fuck”_ that barely escaped his lips before Bill was kissing him again, rough and violent, a metallic tang of blood on his tongue.

_Why would you want to flirt with another human, anyway? When I can give you everything you want?_

_You aren’t human. I wanted that._

_I’m something_ so much better _than human, little tree. Humans can’t do this to you._ Bill pulled hard on something in Dipper’s nerves and a moan cracked in his throat. _Humans can’t make you feel like this. Only I can._

Bill pulled away to nip at Dipper’s shoulder again, to leave bright red marks all over him, and Dipper managed to say, “But you can’t feel.”

“Can’t feel??” Bill appeared to be honestly affronted when he raised his head back up, their eyes meeting. “There’s _so much_ I can feel. I can feel your _mind,_ I can feel everything floating around and twisting and turning you and driving you mad. I can feel the same symbiotic craving you feel. Most importantly, I feel _you._ I understand you.” He easily undid the remaining buttons of his shirt and shrugged out of it. Dipper was aware of how he stared, but he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t stop.

“Now, are you going to listen to me?” Bill asked with mock patience, looking mildly annoyed. “Or are you going to keep being belligerent? You don’t have to keep fighting, little tree. This is what the soul bond _wants._ ” He was quieter, almost persuasive. “We’re _supposed_ to be close to each other. We’re  _supposed_ to want to hold each other.” Bill fumbled with the button of Dipper’s jeans as he sucked a purple hickey into his shoulder. “So it’s _okay_ if you want me to fuck you senseless,” he said softly. He was smiling; Dipper could feel the curve of his mouth. _Why don’t you say it?_

Dipper bit his lip and said nothing. He kept his hands loose around Bill’s neck, his head angled away.

“Say it.”

Dipper heard his zipper and his heart seemed to slam itself against his stomach. “I w - I want you to - _nn,_ fuck me - senseless,” he mumbled, closing his eyes and grimacing, and his obedience was rewarded by Bill wrapping his hand around his cock. He bit down on his tongue but wasn’t able to hold back a fucking _whimper,_ betraying himself.

“Do you want _me_ to fuck you senseless, or _him?”_ Bill taunted, adding bite marks to bruises all over Dipper’s neck. “Would you care? Would it feel like this?” He was stroking him and Dipper couldn’t fucking _take_ it, he was already breathing harshly and rocking his hips forward into Bill’s hand. The headspace was on fire, great beautiful swaths of multicolored flames that swept through and abolished any of that denial, that defiance from earlier. It was gone, Jordan was gone. The only ones who mattered to them at all were each other.

“Want _you,”_ Dipper panted, not even lying, not even trying to hide it, “just you, just - _ah,_ you.” His grip tightened again around Bill’s neck and shoulders; he wanted every inch of his skin pressed against him. “Please, _shit,_ please -”

“Please, _who?”_ Bill asked mockingly from where he had bitten into Dipper’s collarbone and drawn blood, maroon drops sliding down his bruised skin.

Dipper sucked in a long breath, his face bright red in humiliation, and reluctantly said, “Please, _Bill - ah, fuck,”_ he gasped out, his voice cracking on Bill’s name as something _snapped_ in his nerves, nearly making him collapse onto the floor. Bill was laughing, the headspace was glowing green and gold and scarlet, and all Dipper could do was keep saying _please,_ keep begging.

“You sound so _good_ like this,” Bill commented, the movement of his hand slowing down. Dipper barely bit back a whine in response, barely managed to keep his hips from jerking forward. “Begging suits you, little tree.” He caught Dipper’s chin with his hand. “Now, what do I have to do to you to convince you not to go off with other humans? Fuck you so hard you can’t stand up tomorrow? Make you come just with your _mind?”_ he drawled, the glitter of humor in his eyes too much to handle. Dipper bit his bottom lip hard and looked down.

Suddenly, a sharp twist in his nerves, and he moaned unwillingly, his nails digging into Bill’s shoulders. “ _Fuck,_ I w - I want you t-to fuck me, fuck me, _please -”_

“It sounds like you'd be happy fucking anybody,” said Bill with fake despondency, shaking his head. “How am I supposed to -”

Dipper cut him off by kissing him, he needed him too badly, needed to be closer _closer,_ needed Bill’s hands wrapped around his waist and sliding down his back, wanted words pressed into his skin, wanted, wanted, _wanted -_

_Are you mine?_

“ _Yes,”_ Dipper mumbled breathlessly into Bill’s mouth. The overpowering scarlet seemed to seep into his ears, his eyes, his veins.

And then, very abruptly, he was shoved away.

Shocked, he fell over onto the ground, staring up at Bill with indignant surprise _._ The expression he saw on his face wasn’t the same mocking smirk from seconds ago; Bill looked _cold,_ angry, vindictive. _Vindictive._ It shouldn’t have made Dipper’s breath catch in his throat or his cock twitch against his stomach.

“Don’t _lie_ to me, little tree. If you knew, if you _understood_ that you belong to me, you wouldn’t have let that human touch you.”

“But I -”

“I don’t want to hear your _excuses,_ I want you to _get it.”_ Bill jerked his head in the direction of the bed and Dipper hurriedly followed his silent instructions. “Close your eyes and wait.”

Dipper nodded and did so, laid back with an arm over his eyes and his other hand clutching at the sheets. Teasing and mocking he had gotten used to, but this cold fury, the raging jealousy that festered in Bill’s mind, this he didn’t know what to do about.

But some part of it was _thrilling,_  much to his humiliation.Bill was insanely jealous over _him,_ wanted him enough that he would literally _kill_ to keep others away from him. It was wrong, but it felt _good_ to be wanted that much.

And then the bed was creaking and Bill was there, his hands hot on Dipper’s thighs, tugging off his boxers and tossing them aside and pushing his legs apart. Dipper grimaced, closing his eyes tight against his arm, but he could see how Bill saw him in the headspace and their shared mind stung with humiliation. Bill huffed a quiet laugh.

The sound of a tube cap made Dipper cringe, his fists clenching, but somehow his mouth was open and he wanted he _wanted._ These thoughts screamed themselves hoarse in the headspace, but he kept his mouth shut tight around them.

“Now, be good and don’t struggle.” The first finger inside him was nothing, and his back arched instinctively as he exhaled in a hiss. The second was shoved in barely ten seconds later and he shuddered.

“Good boy.” The third finger inside him made his hips jerk sharply and his toes curl into the sheets, or maybe it was the _words -_

Bill was laughing again with his usual mockery. “Oh, do you like being called a _good boy?_ Do you like knowing that you’ve done something _right_ for once?”

Before Dipper could register his own horror and embarrassment, Bill was gripping bruises into his thigh with one hand and fucking him roughly with his other and it was so _good,_ the haze in the headspace was drowning everything out and Dipper could barely hear himself plead and moan. He could feel pain, though, pain inside him and the pain of Bill’s fingernails in his thigh, then raking down his thigh, leaving thin, stinging red lines that wouldn’t stay.

Then, Bill’s teeth in his side, sharp and intending to break skin and make him _bleed_ and _fucking hell why do I like that,_ Dipper managed to ask himself, furious and desperate, _why do I love it when he hurts me, marks me -_

“Fuck,” Bill was muttering. “How am I supposed to _punish_ you when you _like_ this?”

A whine escaped through Dipper’s teeth at Bill’s words, encouraging him to fuck him harder with his fingers, bite into his side and his leg and his stomach until spots of maroon were all over Dipper’s body, blood and bruises and bite marks. “Please, I _\- shit -_ please, _please,”_ Dipper gasped out, and it didn’t even sound like him, and he hated it.

“Fine.” Bill pulled his fingers out and Dipper dug his hands into the sheets, he felt _empty,_ he wanted _more._ “Do you belong to me?”

Dipper nodded frantically. “Yes, yeah -”

“Say it.”

Haze, haze, haze, who was he? He didn’t know. He didn’t know. “I belong to you, I belong to - to you, I belong to y - _aah, f-fuck.”_ Bill was in his head again, the fucking haze all around him and over him and inside him, Bill’s metaphysical fingers in his head and in his nerves and making everything feel _amazing._

“Good boy.”

Dipper’s eyelids fluttered and he bit back another moan, he _hated_ this, hated so much about himself, but the haze was too overpowering.

“G-get out of my head,” he mumbled weakly. “Get out!”

Bill burst into laughter, real sneering laughter that only served to humiliate Dipper further. “What, are you talking about all that _fog_ in your mind? That’s not _me,_ little tree. That’s _you._ ”

Dipper’s breath slowed as he focused on what Bill was saying, realized what he was doing. It was true, as he realized in horror; the haze was _him. He_ was influencing his own mind, drowning out his reason and rationale and morals. Some hungry, needy part of him wanted nothing more than for Bill to fuck him hard, and it was in control.

He wasn’t in control. He was in control. Wasn't. Was.

“ _Hah,_ isn’t that interesting? You’re sabotaging _yourself! You_ wanted me to fuck you _so badly_ that you shut down everything else! And...oh, little tree, you’ve got to be kidding me! _That_ is hilarious.”

“W-what?” Dipper managed to ask, dread settling in the pit of his stomach, mingling with his desire to create an uncomfortable combination.

“Did you _really_ go after that human just because you were trying not to think about how much you’re attracted to _me?”_ Bill asked incredulously, and Dipper could _hear_ the shit-eating grin on his face. “Were you trying to convince yourself that you could have sex with someone who wasn’t me? Could even _kiss_ someone who wasn’t me? And could you do it? Did you kiss him?”

Dipper gave a tiny shake of his head. “Shut up,” he tried to growl, but his voice was too wrecked and he was too dismayed by himself.

“It’s because you _can’t!_ It’s because it’s _you and me,_ little tree!" said Bill cheerfully, grinning broadly. "Just the two of us. And no one will ever be able to amount to me because of what I’ve done to you.”

Dipper felt Bill’s cock against him and sucked in a long breath, tried not to seem too eager or too desperate. “That’s not true -”

“It’s true. It’s true because you’re _**mine**.” _ And very suddenly Bill was inside him and _fuck,_ it had only been four days but it felt like _centuries_ since the same explosion of emotions and colors and thoughts had occurred in the headspace, all the scarlets and hot pinks and gorgeous streaks of gold and the beautiful blooming green that acted as the backdrop to their physical contact.

Dipper tried to regulate his breathing but found that he couldn’t, found that it was _too much_ for him to handle, everything happening in his nerves and in his body, he was losing control. He wanted it, he hated it, he hated Bill _so fucking much._

“You love this so much,” Bill murmured, leaning forward and kissing Dipper’s chest as he pulled out just to grab Dipper by his hips and fuck into him again, making him throw back his head in a shout that quickly dissolved into a loud moan. He couldn’t argue.

“So, what did you do wrong?” Bill asked patiently, settling into an easy rhythm.

Dipper just grimaced and said nothing.

There was a short sigh, and then Bill snapped his hips forward and he was so fucking _deep_ and Dipper gasped out just as much, only incensing Bill into fucking him harder.

 _“What_ did you do wrong?” Bill repeated, his breathing getting harsher, his voice darker.

“I l - I let - I let an - another person t-touch m-me,” Dipper managed to say, his fist pressed against his mouth and his eyes shut tight against the world. Everything felt so fucking _great,_ Bill’s cock inside him and his hands all over him and marks left all over his body signifying that he _belonged_ to someone.

“And _why_ is that wrong?” Bill prompted, too fucking smug.

Gritting his teeth, Dipper mumbled, “B-because I b-belong to y-you, _ah, fuck.”_ He arched his back sharply and Bill held him tighter, Bill had bottomed out and their hips were pressed together and Dipper never wanted that to change, _never_ wanted to get out of this position. “ _Please,_ I w - I want it, please -”

“ _Fuck,”_ Bill echoed and suddenly he was _faster_ and Dipper couldn’t hold his fist to his mouth, couldn’t stop all the noises he was making, couldn’t stop the way his vocabulary had been reduced to a jumbled mess of _please_ and _fuck_ and _want_ and _yes_ and Bill’s name.

“You belong to me?” Bill growled, not stopping, not slowing down.

Dipper managed to throw a _yes_ in between his short, panting moans that he couldn’t hold back.

“Your body? Your mind? Your _soul?”_

“Yes, _yes,_ all of - everything, yes,” Dipper panted, his head thrown back.

A hand beneath his cock, then. “Does this hole belong to me?”

Shame colored Dipper's skin, colored the headspace, only to be muted by their mingling desire. “Y-yes, _fuck,_ all of - all of me, I’m yours, _I’m yours, ah, fuck,_ please _-_ fuck me harder, _harder, please -”_

“ _Fuck,_ you’re good,” Bill sighed, bending forward and pressing a kiss to Dipper’s chest. “You like being a _good boy,_ don’t you? Following my orders for me? _Pleasing_ me? _Belonging_ to me?"

Dipper nodded, wretched but practically _euphoric,_ everything felt _so amazing._

“You really do, look how _hard_ you are.” Bill pressed his thumb against the head of Dipper’s cock and he keened, not stuffing his fist in his mouth in time to stifle it. “You’re so _good._ You’ve come to like all the _pain_ I inflict on you, you do what I tell you to do no matter how much you act like you hate it...you’re _perfect,_ little tree.”

This, too, made Dipper’s breathing pause for a few seconds. “W-what?” he asked rather dumbly, considering his head was nothing but his own haze of sex.

“Perfect.” The word was pressed into his lips and then Bill was kissing him and _he said I’m perfect?_ and Dipper tangled his hands in Bill’s hair and kissed him back, not ever wanting to let go, _he says I’m perfect he says I’m perfect -_

“What, are you gonna come from _that?”_ Bill sneered, licking a streak of blood off of Dipper’s lip. “From me telling you that you’re the perfect little _sub?”_

Dipper didn’t respond, couldn’t respond, he was close and he wanted to focus on the burn of Bill’s cock inside of him, of the body against his, the hands digging into his waist and his thigh, of the word _perfect._

One of Bill’s thrusts was deep enough for him to cry out, for Bill to tell through the headspace just how close he was.

“Well, _that_ didn’t take long, did it? You really like it rough, don’t you? Rough and fast and _angry,_ you _really_ like it when I’m jealous, I can tell.”

Dipper wanted to shake his head viciously but he just _couldn’t,_ Bill was _right,_ he _liked_ how jealous he was, he liked that he was _important_ in this bed, in this moment, important enough for Bill’s fury.

“Oh, I know. Hang on.”

Bill pulled out - Dipper resisted the urge to make a noise - and pushed him over onto his side. Dipper rolled onto his stomach and stayed there with his face resting on his hands and his knees and calves on the bed, waiting, still breathing heavily and still wanting it, still wanting all of it.

Bill pushed into him quickly, hissing out curses under his breath, then grabbed Dipper roughly by his hips and fucked him hard enough to make him shout, shout again, then a shout that became broken pleads and nonsense words and tiny moans.

“You’re mine,” Bill said with finality, with the air of one presenting a fact, his personal victory.

“I’m - I - _ah, f-fuck,_ I’m y - _yours,_ I’m yours,” Dipper managed to reply, the shame long burned away, leaving behind only his desperate, animalistic _want._ He _belonged._ He was _perfect._ Bill clawed a few long lines of scratches down his back and his eyes rolled back in his head, mumbling out something that could have been Bill’s name.

Then, suddenly, a burst of pain somewhere around his hips, _actual_ pain, and Dipper yelped. “Hey, ow!”

“Sorry! It’s gone. It’s over.” Bill rubbed his palm over the small of Dipper’s back. “Are you close?” he asked, rocking his hips forward and back again.

Dipper nodded, pressing himself back against Bill as much as possible, wanting all of him. “ _Mhm._ Yeah.”

“Okay - okay.” Bill exhaled and paused for a second before digging his fingernails into Dipper’s side and picking up his earlier speed, maybe faster, it didn’t matter, Dipper was lost in his own noises that blended together and made no sense anymore, he was so close, everything felt _so good,_ but he never wanted it to end -

Then he was being pushed over again, rolling onto his back, and Bill had pulled out of him and he was about to beg, was ready to beg, when there was suddenly a hand in his hair and, milliseconds later, something on his face.

It took him a few dumb, hazy moments for him to realize that it was _come_ all over his face, on his cheeks and nose and lips and eyelashes, but before he could react at all, Bill closed his mouth over his cock and he came, still gasping nothings, still lost in his own head, still gone, too far gone.

Minutes or days or maybe years later, when their breathing had calmed down enough that they could actually move, Dipper heard Bill sit up and cough. “ _That’s_ not too much fun.”

“Then don’t make _me_ do it,” Dipper retorted, his voice cracking.

Bill laughed, his usual laughter, back to normal. “Touche. _Mmm.”_ There was a loud creak and then he was sitting over Dipper, looking down on him. “I’m proud of this.”

Dipper grimaced. “I feel gross.”

“You look _great._ Hang on, I gotta capture this.” Dipper opened his eyes to see Bill digging around for his phone in his discarded pants pocket. His back was covered in long, thin, red scratches.

“Okay, no way in _hell_ are you taking pictures of me with _jizz_ all over my face, you fucking asshole. I’m washing this shit off. You’re disgusting.” Miraculously, Dipper was able to hobble over to the bathroom without falling over and was able to get there before Bill found his phone. Bill just laughed at him as he shut the door.

As he uncomfortably beheld himself in the mirror over the sink - _okay, I look kinda hot -_ he almost missed the other slight change in his appearance that he had only spotted because of the full-body mirror on the other side of the room, though this one was significantly more unexpected.

Sitting dark against the small of his back was a black triangle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **last updated 8.30.16  
> **  
>  warnings edited 12.4.17
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> i got some more beautiful fanart, this is from [rebho-draws!!!](http://rebho-draws.tumblr.com/post/134453461523/bill-cipher-fanart-from-smolskey-fan) thank you!!! if u guys have anything u ever want to show me u can @ me on tumblr or twitter or tag me on tumblr btw.
> 
> thank you so much for all the kudos and all that jazz!! there's been such a boom in likes lately and i'm so flattered, i can't believe dm is getting this much attention!! and i love being able to interact with you more on tumblr now that i have one, you guys are so much fun to talk to.


	22. Chapter Twenty-One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OISJ DUS XOFH IKFYO KES BKYZEXT CBP.

“Just hurry up.”

“Why are you so _pissy_ this morning? You need to relax. Let’s get some coffee.”

“Really? _Really?_ You’re gonna ask why I’m pissed off?”

“I _just_ asked, yes.”

“You gave me a fucking _tramp stamp!”_ Dipper said angrily as he and Bill rounded the corner of the hall going to the elevator. “You could have put it _literally anywhere -”_

“I read somewhere that it’s a popular place on the body for tattoos.” Bill shrugged.

“Yeah, for like, 20-30-something _women!_ Guys get tattoos on their arms, or their chests, or their legs -”

“Well, I figured you wouldn’t want it anywhere conspicuous. Nobody ever sees your back.”

“I - okay, that’s true.” They got in the elevator going down with an older couple, whom they smiled at politely before resuming the conversation mentally.

 _Still, you could have_ asked _first._

_Would you have said yes?_

Dipper scowled and looked away. _No. Course not._

Bill grinned. _You’re afraid you would have said yes in the_ throes of passion. _Wouldn’t put it past you._

_Shut the hell up._

Dipper’s phone binged and he checked it. “The girls just got up, they said we can all get breakfast as soon as they get ready and Pacifica stops complaining about her hangover. Wonder how drunk she got.”

“She had a drinking problem in France,” Bill commented absentmindedly, inspecting his fingernails.

Dipper looked over at him in surprise. “How’d _you_ know that?”

“Star told me. But that was in confidence, so don’t tell her.”

“I - geez, I wouldn’t have expected that. Did she say why?”

Bill shook his head. “If she knew, she didn’t tell me.”

“Huh.” Dipper went back to staring at the numbers ticking away above the elevator doors. It dinged once they got to the bottom floor and they stepped out, blinking in the filtered sunlight through the windows. There was a Starbucks in the lobby, and they ordered coffee before sitting on a loveseat by one of the windows.

Bill poked Dipper’s neck. “That concealer’s really something, isn’t it. Can’t see anything.”

Dipper smacked his hand away. “Don’t touch it, even with powder on it you could wipe it off.” He crossed his legs and winced. “ _God,_ everything hurts,” he complained.

_Was it worth it?_

Dipper gave Bill a look, then shook his head wearily and took a long drink of the coffee. It somewhat eased his headache. Bill draped his arm over Dipper’s shoulders and the touch helped, started a comforting glow around the headspace. Dipper reluctantly leaned closer to him, wanting more of the pleasant sensation and a place to rest his head.

“So when’re we meeting with the guy?” Bill asked, sipping at his own coffee. His Starbucks orders were always the most complicated and expensive. This was originally surprising to Dipper, considering Bill almost always drank black coffee at home, but then Bill explained that it was all about creating as big of an inconvenience as possible.

“12:30. I hope the girls get down here soon, it’s already almost 10:30 and we really shouldn’t be late.”

“Where’re we gonna eat?”

Dipper pulled his phone out of his pocket, unlocked it, then tapped it a few times and handed it to Bill. “Found a breakfast place not too far from here. Any complaints?”

Bill inspected the page for a few seconds before handing it back. “No, looks good.”

“Great.” Dipper leaned back, his head resting on Bill’s shoulder, and closed his eyes. “Maybe I can nap before they show up.”

“Did you not sleep well? I didn’t catch any nightmares.”

Dipper nodded, yawning. “‘Dunno why, I just couldn’t get to sleep, couldn’t stay asleep. Maybe it’s jetlag. Probably jetlag. And, y’know, pain. Everywhere.”

“You took some Tylenol this morning, quit complaining.” Bill glanced over at the elevators. “Oh, there they are. They don’t look happy.”

Dipper looked around and saw the girls just as they were getting out. They both had their hair pinned back and up, and were wearing minimal makeup - which was still quite a lot, by Pacifica’s standards - and appeared to be bickering about something.

Bill waved in their direction, and the girls eventually spotted him and headed towards them, still arguing. Mabel looked shifty; Pacifica was just plain cross. Dipper hurriedly moved over to the other end of the couch, folding his arms across his chest.

Dipper heard them faintly as they approached. Under her breath, Pacifica was hissing, “Tell him!” to which Mabel responded quietly, “I can’t just _tell_ him, that’s so weird,” and Pacifica rolled her eyes, scoffed, and replied, “I’ll tell him if you don’t, but it’s your problem.”

Then they were in hearing range and their serious expressions were replaced with those of seemingly genuine pleasantness, or at least not straight up anger.

“Hey, you actually look awake, did you leave earlier?” Pacifica asked, though her eyes were narrowed slightly and her head tilted to one side; signs of a loaded question.

“Uh..yeah, we left at, what, 11? 11:30?” Dipper asked Bill, who shrugged.

 _Wasn’t paying attention._ “Something like that.”

 _‘Course you weren’t._ “When did you guys get back?” Dipper asked in return.

Mabel and Pacifica glanced at each other. “Like, midnight-ish, right?” said Mabel. “I remember because you were thinking really hard about why we have the term midnight and 12 at night, and you were frustrated because there were two words for one thing and I had to stop you from throwing the -”

“Right, okay,” Pacifica cut her off, embarrassed. “Midnight-ish. Yeah.” She smoothed down the front of her shirt. “So, breakfast?”

“Yeah, I’ll get a car, you guys can get coffee or something.” Dipper switched over to the Uber app.

Pacifica gave Mabel a meaningful look and asked, “Want me to get you something?” rather pointedly.

Mabel glared back for a few moments before her shoulders slumped and she replied dully, “Yeah, caramel macchiato.”

Pacifica smirked in victory, then headed towards the counter with a spring in her step. Mabel looked after her, still frowning, then shook her head and sighed loudly and said, “Bill, can I steal my brother for a minute?”

Bill made a flicking gesture with his hand. “Go ahead.”

“I’m not _his_ to steal,” Dipper muttered mutinously as he heaved himself up off the loveseat.

Bill just laughed quietly behind him. _Not in this situation, at least._

_Again, shut the hell up._

The twins headed towards an empty set of chairs all the way across the ground floor next to broad windows and close to the entrance to the hotel restaurant. Mabel sat down and Dipper did as well, cautious at her serious expression.

She chewed on her lip. “Okay. Okay. _Geez._ Okay, um. So me n’ Paz got back at like, midnight-ish last night.”

“Yeah, you said that.”

“Right." She averted her eyes. "So, the thing is, we - we heard you guys.”

Dipper frowned. “You _heard_ us? You heard us. You heard -”

He swore his heart literally stopped.

_Oh holy fucking Jesus Christ no._

Bill was just amused. _Well, that’s something._

“Y - okay, first, I am _so sor -_ I - I’m - that’s - oh my _God,_ oh my God, I’m so _sorry,_ I’m - that -” Dipper tried to stammer out some kind of apology, an explanation, _anything_ , but he could barely say filler words, let alone actual sentences. He was pretty sure his pulse was still flatlining and that all the blood in his heart had managed to work its way into his face.

Mabel held up her hands. “Okay, okay, bro, bro, it’s - as _disturbed_ as I am, I’m...a little hurt, I guess? Why didn’t you tell me you guys were…” She bumped her fists together. “Or was this a _we got drunk and it seemed like a good idea_ thing? Because I’ve _sort of_ been in that situation -”

“Ew, Mabel, gross. No, it’s…” Dipper scrambled for words. “We’ve been, uh, _involved_ for a month or so,” he muttered, not able to look her in the eye. “Ever since, uh. Newport.”

 _“Newport??_ We were only there for two nights!”

“Yeah, it was on the second night.”

“After you guys nearly got _killed?”_ Mabel demanded, incredulous.

“I never said it was done through careful rational choices!” Dipper retorted, his voice cracking. He drummed his fingers on his knee and continued looking anywhere but at his sister. “It just kind of - it happened, alright? And - and it keeps happening.” He rubbed at his arm. “And it’s...it’s fine. It’s not a big deal.”

“If you’re sure.” She appeared to be both doubtful and a little disgusted. “I mean, we heard like, a lot of _words -”_

“Ohhh my God, no, don’t - look, just - _please_ don’t ask,” Dipper interrupted hastily, holding his forehead in his hands. “It’s just - it’s - it’s not something I can help, exactly,” he admitted. “It’s _really_ hard to explain, but we’re...we’re drawn to each other, like, it’s physically difficult for us to be away from each other.”

“So that means you have to hook up??” Mabel asked skeptically.

“It means it feels _right_ when we do, like...like this is where we’re supposed to be.” Dipper combed a hand through his hair. “It doesn’t make any sense, I know, but it’s part of what the soul bond did to us.”

“Alright, then.” Mabel shook her head in confusion. “Were you _ever_ going to tell me?”

“I don’t know if I ever really planned on telling you,” Dipper admitted. “I didn’t really think you’d _want_ to know, to be honest.”

“Well, there’s some things I _definitely_ could’ve gone without knowing about,” Mabel replied with a shudder. “I just - I dunno. You trust me, right?” She sounded genuinely doubtful.

“What - of _course_ I trust you,” said Dipper, taken aback. “But, I mean, I knew how uncomfortable I was when I overheard you talking to your girl friends in college about your... _people,_ so I decided to keep it quiet.”

“That makes sense, I guess.”

Dipper grimaced and ran a hand through his hair again. “Plus, I didn’t - I wasn’t sure if you’d, like, approve of...whatever this is that he and I have. I know it sounds kinda messed up -”

“It _is_ kinda messed up, Dip,” said Mabel honestly, giving him a look. “Considering everything that’s happened, you’re sleeping with _him?_ Are you feeling okay?”

“I - geez, it’s - it’s the soul bond, Mabel, it makes us need to be near each other, and, y’know, that’s about as close as you can get to someone,” he mumbled, folding his arms across his chest. “Physically, I mean.”

Her frown twitched into a sort-of smile. “Is that why you guys’ve been _cuddling_ so much lately?”

He glared at her out of the corner of his eye. “It’s not _cuddling,_ but yeah, that’s why. We just…” He shifted and crossed his legs. “We don’t want to leave each other alone,” he confessed. “I mean, if I could, I wouldn’t be in this situation _at all,_ but because I am, I want to be around him all the time, I wish I didn’t, but I do, and he feels the same way, and -” he scratched at his arm as it prickled with the discomfort of separation - “even being _this_ far apart feels weird.”

“Wow, seriously?” Mabel asked, almost more concerned than before. “It’s gotten that intense between you guys?”

“Yeah, it - it wasn’t supposed to. It should have taken _ages_ for us to get this fucking codependent but it’s happening _now._ ” Dipper ran a hand through his hair again in frustration. “And I don’t know _why,_ but it means - it means this is gonna happen. It means we’re gonna have a thing going on.” He stared down at his knees again.

“Did you know anything about this before you did the soul bond thing?” Mabel asked critically. “That you guys would start hooking up?”

Dipper shifted. “My sources all said that people who were bonded together often ended up in some kind of relationship,” he admitted, “but it was the only option. And it worked, I mean, he can’t harm us anymore, and he can’t harm anybody else because he’s stuck with us. So I took one for the team.”

She sighed and rubbed his shoulder sympathetically. “You’re always doin’ that, bro. Sometimes you gotta let the team take one for _you.”_

“Well, when the world wants to collectively bond their souls to a megalomaniac demon for the sake of protecting _me,_ let me know.” Dipper pushed some hair out of his face and sat up straight. “Okay, are we done having possibly the worst conversation of my life?”

Mabel grinned and said, “Not yet. I have some terms.”

“Oh, hell.”

“You can’t do it when I’m home.”

Dipper bit his lip. “Um -”

“You’ve _done_ that??”

“You were asleep!”

“Okay, that brings us to term two, you need to be _quiet,”_ she said pointedly, wrinkling her nose. “I don’t wanna hear _that_ kinda stuff, like, ever again.”

Dipper buried his face in his hands. “You know, Mabel, you could always just kill me instead of having this conversation.”

“Sorry,” she said, laughing. “Those are my only real conditions. Wait - so are you guys, like, _dating_ now??” she demanded, leaning forward.

Dipper grimaced and shook his head rapidly. “Oh, God, no way in _hell,_ he’s a complete asshole. It’s just sex. And...being around each other almost 24/7.”

“Sounds like _da-ting!”_ she sang, looping an arm around his shoulders and squeezing. “C’mooon, I mean, what’re people gonna say when you guys’re both 35 and still living with each other? That’s kinda past roommate age, y’know?”

“Well, that’s -” Dipper frowned. “Wow, you’re right.” The sudden, horrific image of himself in 13 years still living with Bill crossed his mind and he drop-kicked it into the deepest inner reaches of his subconscious. “Y’know what, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

He stood up. “Are we done? Please tell me we’re done.”

“We’re done.” Mabel got to her feet and patted her brother on the shoulder again. “You okay?”

“Embarrassed beyond all belief and mentally scarred, but sure, I’m fine,” Dipper grumbled.

As they approached the couch where they had left Bill and Pacifica, Dipper assumed that something similar had gone on, though Bill just looked mildly amused and Pacifica was pouring kahlua out of a flask into her coffee.

When the twins approached, she pointed to Dipper, gestured at the liquor, and said, “I just want you to know I’m drinking to forget _that.”_

Dipper wanted nothing more than to pass through the floor and disappear forever.

Mabel frowned. “Paz, it’s only 10:30.”

“It’s 5:30 somewhere. You sure you don’t want a drink after hearing your brother bang a demon for hours last night?” Pacifica waved the flask and Dipper cringed.

Mabel shuddered. “Okay, put some in mine. But only a little!”

“Yep.”

Dipper stumbled over to the couch and sat down next to Bill, instinctively moving closer before he remembered their company and stopped, grabbing Bill's shoulder and forcing himself away. He instead crossed his legs and sat rigidly, ignoring the draw of the headspace as it encouraged the halves to become a whole.

 _They wouldn’t care, really,_ Bill pointed out. _And your sister would_ love _it._

 _All the more reason to not go near you at all. I don’t know what_ you _think our relationship is -_

_Let’s not have this conversation._

_For once I agree with you 100%._

By breakfast, the awkwardness had receded and the four were able to relax for an hour and a half or so, though Dipper did endure the worst teasing he’d gotten since high school. He tuned it out and amused himself by using his magic abilities ever so slightly when nobody was looking, like moving utensils around or using the saltshaker without lifting a finger.

The girls had started bickering over something or other, your average argument, when Bill knocked his knee against Dipper’s under the table.

 _For all their talk, have they_ looked _at themselves lately?_ Mabel was grinning through her comeback, and the blush on Pacifica's cheeks wasn't cosmetic.

Dipper grinned. _I know right? Hypocrites. Though, to be fair,_ we _didn’t hear_ them _last night._

 _So we’re more physical than they are. But I’ve been around humans for a long time,_ too _long, really, and their feelings are written all over their faces._

_D’you think the same goes for us?_

_Well, you’re pretty easy to read, no matter how hard you try to conceal your emotions. I’ve seen the way you look at me._

Dipper frowned and looked away, propping his hand up on his chin. _Topic change. Meeting with the professor guy in...a little under an hour. Thoughts?_

_Just the usual ones reminding you not to get overwhelmed by your anxiety. Mostly because it’s really annoying for me to have to deal with._

_Thanks._

_Though, it is kinda funny watching you freak out over things. You’re_ adorable _when you get nervous about TV shows._

Dipper glanced at Bill, still cross, as Bill gave him a completely innocent look. _I hate you._

_Sure you do._

_This isn’t gonna be another Damian, right?_

_How would I know? Could be, probably isn’t, but it’s possible!_

Dipper sighed, angling his body away. _As always, you’re a shining beacon of support._

_Aw, what’re soulmates for?_

_Don’t ever fucking call us that again._

_What, soulmates? It’s true, little tree, our souls are literally bonded together, after all. We don’t feel complete unless we’re close to each other._ Bill’s hand slid up Dipper’s leg. _Unless we’re_ touching _each other._

Dipper smacked his hand away. _We’re in public, asshole. Don’t touch me._ But the headspace had flared up the second they made contact with each other, and as soon as the feeling was gone, Dipper felt that familiar pain in his head, an intense craving. He did his best to push it down, but Bill had sensed the discomfort.

Dipper shifted in his seat and stared determinedly at the far wall. _Look, why don’t we just...hold hands, or something. Then we get the contact but you don’t fucking grope me in public._

 _You’re no fun._ Bill reached out and took Dipper’s hand, their fingers folding over each other’s, and the headspace glowed the green of their intermingling, their bond.

Dipper closed his eyes. _Thanks,_ he thought rather reluctantly.

 _I like this._ Bill’s thumb slid across his own. _Nobody hits on someone holding hands with someone else. I’ve picked up on that._

 _Wise deduction,_ Dipper deadpanned. He wasn’t entirely sure whether he liked or was put off by this possessiveness, the way Bill acted like he _owned_ him. He sincerely hoped it was the latter.

The girls were laughing and had finally finished talking about whatever the hell they were talking about. “Hey, are you guys done?” Mabel asked. “We should head out soon, I dunno how long it’s gonna take to get over to that campus, and it’s a _big_ campus.”

“Yeah, we’re good, we can leave.”

A payment and an Uber call and then they were heading over to the campus in a steady stream of traffic. Dipper, consumed with worry and theories that got increasingly far-fetched, didn’t argue when Bill put his arm around him. He was too stressed to make yet another desperate attempt to preserve his image.

He felt like he should be wary about Bill's kindness, but there was too much he was already nervous about.

The shift from buildings to parks was the first clue that they were approaching the campus, a change in architecture the second. Letters on a large brick building read _Darrell K. Royal Texas Memorial Stadium,_ and they rounded a corner and drove past it into the campus, sparsely occupied because of summer classes but still filled with students.

“Can you find your way from here?” the driver asked.

“Yeah, we’ve got an address,” Dipper replied, pulling out his phone to check the email he had received earlier that day containing the time and place where they were to meet with the professor.

The driver pulled over to the side of the road and the group of four stepped out into the bright, near-sweltering day. It had to be at least 95 degrees. Dipper hoped to holy hell that he wouldn’t sweat all the concealer off. _It wouldn’t make any difference, considering they all know now, I guess,_ he thought grimly.

They paid the driver and walked down the sidewalk, down into the heart of campus. They didn’t receive any odd looks, considering they all looked about college-age. There was a little information stand close to the quad where Pacifica retrieved a map of campus.

“Guess it’s so big, they’ve gotta have these set up everywhere,” she commented, opening the map completely and inspecting it, turning it sideways. “My college was big, but not _this_ big.”

“Where’d you go again?” Dipper asked, looking over her shoulder.

“Pierre and Marie Curie University,” she replied absentmindedly, looking intensely at the map. “Which building is it?”

Dipper glanced at his phone. “Says Liberal Arts Building.”

“Oh, good, it’s that building.” Pacifica pointed over at the towering structure off to their left. “Thank God we don’t have to walk everywhere, it’s so _hot.”_

Dipper checked the time. “We’ve got like 20 minutes, is there any, like, coffee around here?”

Mabel peered at the map. “The student center’s right up there past the lib building, there’s gotta be coffee in there.”

"Didn't we get coffee a good two hours ago?" Bill pointed out, following the girls. He reached for Dipper's hand again.

"We're  _Oregonians,_ Bill," was Mabel's only reply, and Pacifica laughed.

"That...didn't really explain anything."

There was a decent mostly-empty lounge area in the student center where a few kids sat and talked and studied or watched TV, and the group found an unoccupied couch to sit at temporarily. Everything seemed so _ordinary._ So _normal._

It was hard to believe that this had been them only a few months ago, sitting with friends and studying like crazy and complaining about hard-ass professors and living in dorms. According to Dipper’s older friends who had graduated the year before, senior year was slacker year, but they were completely wrong. (Probably because they were largely performing arts majors.) Senior year had been completely hellish; he had no idea how he managed to pass all of his classes and get a decent grade on his thesis.

 _You ever been to college?_ Dipper thought.

Bill glanced over at him. _I mean, I’ve hovered around at colleges, how d’you think I got to Elliott?_

_Right. But never -_

_Nope. The few times I’ve been human I’ve been past college age. Or I was human before college was a thing. Sounds like you had fun, though._

_Yeah, when I wasn’t studying until 6 in the morning or going to three hour lecture classes four times a week._

Some college memories flickered through the headspace, definitely not in chronological order, but all over the place. There was Jeff holding a possum by its tail and screaming, Nate pointing at the gigantic eagle tattoo on his chest and screaming, a view from the trunk of a car of five men singing along loudly to something by Insane Clown Posse prior to their political careers, papers and textbooks spread all over the floor of a dorm while Cole laid on the floor drinking coffee through a curly straw, classes and papers and grades and late-night adventures and getting too drunk and being hungover and going to class still hungover and everything that had made college college.

Dipper looked out at the campus through the window and felt a huge rush of nostalgia, of a longing for a simpler time, when his comfort and inner peace didn’t rely largely on the demon sitting next to him.

_Life sucks, little tree. It sucks and then you die._

_That’s really helpful, thanks._

_I’m just being realistic! Besides, what with your mental condition -_

Dipper frowned at Bill, his shields up. _When did I ever tell you about that?_

Bill rolled his eyes. _Our minds are connected literally 24/7, there’s very little that I_ don’t _**know** _ _about you at this point._

Dipper hunched his shoulders and went back to staring out the window. _So you know that I have depression and social anxiety out my ass. Great._

 _I’ve known_ that _for years. A professional diagnosis doesn’t magically make symptoms appear. As soon as I found out about it, I came up with ways to put your little_ problems _to good use. They've been really helpful over the years.  
_

Dipper shuddered in disgust and pointedly shifted away from Bill. _I hate you._

Bill just half-smiled, sipping his frappuccino and looking casual as you please. _You can’t hate me. We’re one mind now, it’s like hating yourself. Well, I suppose you already hate yourself on some level, so maybe that doesn’t change -_

 _Shut up._ Dipper had inadvertently balled his hands into fists. He relaxed them. _I hate myself because of you,_ he thought without thinking, the words spinning angrily into the headspace and saying more than he wanted Bill to know.

Bill’s laughter filled the headspace. _Do you? But I_ care _about you, little tree, I want to_ protect _you, keep you safe, teach you so much -_

_You fucking hurt me and you don’t even get it. I know you don’t get some emotions -_

_Well, I’m hearing these loud and clear. It’s not really_ hate, _it’s_ guilt _that you’re feeling so intensely. Guilt because of how much you need my attention, my_ praise, _what, was all of that last night not good enough for you?_

Dipper really hoped he hadn’t gone red. He himself appeared in the headspace briefly, on his back with his hands grabbing at bedsheets and biting his lip, his hair a complete mess and his legs in the air. He shoved it out of the way almost immediately. _Seriously. Shut up._

“Hey, we should head over there now,” said Mabel. “You guys good?” she asked the two men, breaking the long silence between them.

Dipper nodded numbly and stood up with his body still shaking in anger, but he didn’t jerk away when Bill reached out and took his hand, only gripped Bill’s hand a bit tighter than was customary. He couldn’t not notice the look on Mabel’s face when she saw their hands, the way her eyes sparkled and her eyebrows shot up and she pursed her lips in an attempt not to smile. Pacifica, doing something on her phone, didn’t see anything.

 _Can we put my mental well-being on the “things we don’t talk about” list?_ Dipper asked dryly as they exited the student center and headed for the liberal arts building.

_I wasn’t aware we had one of those._

_We do now. Also on the list is the nature of our relationship, as discussed earlier._

Bill's thumb slid across Dipper's. _I’m on board with that._

According to a large sign on the first floor in the liberal arts building, Professor Omar was up on the fourth floor. Dipper’s heart was somehow in his throat, his hand was shaking as he knocked on the door, he was holding onto Bill for dear life with his free hand, and even the calming feelings that Bill projected into the headspace did little to calm his nerves.

Some relief came when the door opened to a perfectly normal looking man. He was very professor-ish, wearing a tweed jacket over a button-down shirt and his broad-rimmed glasses slightly askew on his nose.

“Hello, you must be Mason!” he said with gusto, extending a hand to Dipper and shaking firmly; Dipper quickly let go of Bill’s hand. “Nice to meet you in person.”

“Likewise, er, Professor,” Dipper replied, attempting a smile. “Uh, this is Will, Pacifica, and my sister Mabel.” He gestured to each of them in turn, and Omar shook the hands of all of them.

He made a sweeping gesture with his hand and stood back against the door. “Please, please, come in, let’s talk.”

They settled in two chairs in front of Omar’s desk; Pacifica and Mabel managed to cram onto one chair, laughing a little in the process, while Dipper adamantly refused to do anything of the sort with Bill and the demon complained about how he couldn’t hover in front of other people.

“So! You encountered a supernatural being, correct?” Omar asked, looking at Dipper directly.

“Uh, yeah. We, uh, we had some questions about something that we, uh, saw on its body.”

“ _Body?”_ Omar took off his glasses and set them down, his large eyebrows furrowing. “You mean to say this creature had a physical form?”

“Yeah, a human form. Mabel, you've got the -”

Mabel already had her phone out, and she quickly found the photo before handing it to Omar, who put his glasses back on to inspect it closely.

“This is the immortal’s...neck?”

“Yeah,” Dipper replied, leaning forward. “Do you recognize it?”

“I do,” Omar replied slowly. _Yes! Finally_. “This is possibly the most ancient of languages, findings have been dated back even older than cuneiform. It's near impossible to translate.”

“Do you know what it says, like, at all?” Dipper asked. “We think it's a name.”

“I'm inclined to say the same. Very few actual _words_ were ever recorded in this language, it was mostly names. Especially if this is on the neck of an immortal in a human body. Do you know how this immortal ended up in a human body?” Omar inquired, looking a little shrewdly at Dipper.

“It was through human transmutation.”

Omar’s bushy eyebrows raised. “Really? A successful human transmutation? Those are very rare. Are you sure?”

“Positive,” said Dipper firmly, hoping Omar wouldn't ask _why_ he was sure. “Does it matter?”

“Yes. Through extensive research, I've learned _why_ the names of these immortals are printed on them.” Omar folded his hands beneath his chin. “It acts as a _self-destruct button,_ for the most part. If the immortal is wreaking too much havoc with its human body, it can be sent back to its realm using the name printed on its neck.”

From the shock that lit up in tiny bursts all over the headspace, Bill knew just as little about this fact as Dipper.

“S-seriously?” Dipper asked, tapping his foot on the floor. “Er, how, exactly?”

Omar sighed, looking off to one side. “Well, I can’t find any record of it having been _done,_ but there is a way to do it. The immortal has to stand in its summoning circle and its summoning incantation has to be recited _backwards,_ then its name chanted seven times. Then the immortal is sent back to its realm, and the body it was housed in simply disappears.”

“If there’s no record of it actually happening, then how do you know it works?” Pacifica asked critically, looking skeptical.

Omar sighed again. “We don’t. Once immortals attain human bodies, they, er, don’t want to leave.” He cleared his throat. “There are, however, records of people _dying_ during their attempts to send immortals back to their realms. It's a very shady field, and there's so much guesswork.”

He checked the time on the wall and nearly jumped. “Oh, hell! I’m so sorry, I have a staff meeting in five minutes, I completely forgot that was today, my _sincere_ apologies.” He jumped to his feet and started hunting around for papers, gathering a folder-full into his arms.

“Can we, uh, follow up?” Dipper said quickly, standing up. “I mean, you know _a lot_ about this kinda stuff, right?”

Omar nodded. “Been researching it ever since undergrad,” he replied. “A bit of an unorthodox field of study, but a fascinating one. Ah, hang on -” He tore a strip of paper off of one of many in a large stack, wrote something down on it, and handed it to Dipper. “Why don’t we meet there at, say, 9 tonight? I would say earlier, but I have other engagements all through the evening, my mother’s in town, I’m sure you know how it is, I really am sorry about this.”

Dipper nodded, looking down at the address scrawled on the paper. “Okay. Okay. We’ll be there, and it’s really no problem,” he assured Omar, who smiled in relief, many small lines in his face standing out in the light.

“Excellent. Well, it was good to meet you in person, and I’ll see you later tonight!” Omar retrieved a bag from beside the door and opened it. "Oh! One more thing." He nodded at the paper in Dipper's hand. "You'll find the area looks rather decrepit, but I've had to keep my research related to this topic away from my office due to, ah, _issues_ involving my colleagues. Nobody really comes out there, so everything is safe, despite the outward appearance. Anyway." He gestured towards the hallway.

“Question,” said Bill suddenly after they had exited. “The immortal doesn’t have to _willingly_ enter their summoning circle, right?”

Omar looked at him for a second longer than necessary and replied, “No, they don’t. They can enter if they want to, or they can be tricked into entering, it doesn’t matter. They’ll be banished either way. I really have to run - have a good afternoon!” he said, giving a small wave before hurrying down the hallway.

“Interesting guy,” Mabel remarked as they headed to the elevator. “But, pretty sure he’s not a demon, so we’re off to a good start.”

Bill shook his head. “No, I got a weird vibe from Damian. Messed up my _chi_ something _awful.”_ Dipper rolled his eyes. “But I’m not getting anything strange from that guy. Organic body. 100% home-grown human being.”

“I dunno, something feels _off_ about him,” said Pacifica, frowning. “I mean, like, he didn’t mention _how_ he knows all that stuff.”

“He said there were records,” said Dipper, frowning.

“Yeah, but records from _who?_ From _when?”_

“I - we’ll ask him tonight,” Dipper decided “Or you can ask him, or whatever.”

Mabel brightened and she grabbed her brother’s arm. “Oooh, does that mean we’re coming?”

Dipper turned to her, bewildered. “I said I wouldn’t stop you from coming with us, right? So, yeah. I mean, I _want_ you to come.”

Beaming, Mabel threw her arms around her brother’s chest and hugged him tightly. “ _Brooo!_ Oh, man, this is _great!_ I figured you were gonna be all ‘no, you can’t come, it’s too dangerous, we might die, breaking and entering is wrong,’ all that noise.”

Dipper managed to nod and say “I learned my lesson” despite Mabel’s arms squeezing all of the air out of his lungs and possibly breaking some ribs. He caught Pacifica looking at Mabel with a surprising gentleness in her eyes. Then she made eye contact with him and she turned away, clearing her throat loudly.

Once on the ground floor again, they stepped outside and were reminded none-too-gently that it was hot as balls.

“I vote we all adjourn to our rooms in the hotel until dinner so we don’t have to deal with this,” said Pacifica crossly, glaring at the sun as if she could make the weather change, harsh once again. She pointed at the men. “Don’t do anything gross.”

Bill just grinned rather sleazily and wrapped his arm around Dipper’s waist. “Can’t promise anything!”

Dipper desperately wanted to sink into the ground and die.

 

The heat of the afternoon found them asleep, worn out by the weather and jetlag and the events of the last 24 hours. Dipper had reluctantly fallen asleep next to Bill with the firm promise that he wouldn’t do anything weird to him while he slept, and when he opened his eyes a few hours later, he found that the promise had been kept.

Dipper woke up slow, slow and numb, his eyes barely open and his brain still in the fog of sleep. He recognized only the warmth of the covers over him, the sound of his own heartbeat, and the body pressed against his. The only recognizable thing in his blurry field of vision was Bill’s neck and shoulders, his skin tanner than it had been when his body was first formed due to spending time in the sun, even a few scattered freckles here and there.

Dipper tilted his head forward into the crook of Bill’s neck and he felt an arm tighten around him, felt a twitch from one of the legs intertwined with his.

 _You awake?_ he thought, still asleep enough to be unable to speak.

 _Sort of,_ was the hazy reply.

_Same._

_Do you want to get up?_

_Not really._

_Then go back to sleep._ Bill lazily pushed some hair out of Dipper’s face and kissed his forehead. _We’ve got time, I’m sure._

The headspace was a surge of emotion, green and gold and a pale teal. _Comfort. Safety._ Despite everything Bill had said earlier, had _ever_ said, Dipper slowly realized he felt _safe_ in his arms. His body, his base instincts, were all telling him _safe._

Bill was humming softly, then _singing,_ quietly but with a powerful lilt to his voice.

“Whas’sat?” Dipper mumbled out loud, slurring his words together.

“ _Mourir d'aimer,”_ Bill replied, his voice less of a mess. “French.”

“Hm. Forgot ‘bout all your languages.” Dipper had had no actual idea of where his arms were until Bill shifted slightly and he discovered his arms were wrapped around Bill’s back and shoulders.

Then Bill’s voice was clear and close to his ear, lips almost touching his skin. “ _Mourir d'aimer,”_ he sang quietly. “ _De plein gré s'enfoncer dans la nuit, payer l'amour au prix de sa vie, pécher contre le corps mais non contre l'esprit.”_

Dipper closed his eyes and moved in closer, Bill’s skin hot under his hands, under his legs where they brushed together, against his cheek.

“ _Laissons le monde à ses problèmes,”_ Bill continued, one of his hands sliding from Dipper’s face to his shoulder and down his side, onto his back. “ _Les gens haineux face à eux-mêmes, avec leurs petites idées.”_ His fingers grazed the triangle mark he had left, stark black against Dipper's skin, sensitive to the touch.

Dipper found himself falling back to sleep, a slight prickling in his subconscious the only distraction from Bill’s voice and his touch and the colors of the headspace and how _nice_ everything felt.

 _“Endors-toi, petit arbre,”_ Bill said softly, interrupting the song to speak and lean down to press a kiss to Dipper’s shoulder.

Consumed by comfort, safety, some drunken foolish emotion imitating _love,_ Dipper fell asleep to Bill’s soft singing, to French words he didn’t understand.

“ _Mourir d'aimer, comme on le peut de n'importe quoi, abandonner tout derrière soi.”_ Bill’s eyes narrowed into glowing yellow slits as he took in the sight of the man pressed against him, holding him and depending on him the way he never wanted to, never believed he could. “ _Pour n'emporter que ce qui fut nous, qui fut toi.”_

 

“ _Why_ couldn’t we just get a taxi?” Pacifica complained for possibly the fourth time from the back of the Smart Car they had rented only about an hour previously.

“The Uber people won’t take us all the way out in this weird closed off area, I _just_ said that,” replied Dipper, exasperated. He ran his hand through his already tangled hair as he rounded another corner into an even more decrepit area than the broken down street of old warehouses and scrap heaps they had just left. “I wish he could keep his crap in a not weird place."

He was more irritable than usual, still frazzled from what happened a few hours earlier, waking up - like, _actually_ waking up - with Bill's arms around him and feeling _safe_ and _wanted_ and _okay,_ all of which he knew was absolutely wrong. And yet when Bill had kissed him upon waking, he hadn't fought it. Even remembering what Bill had said about how he had used his own fucking _mental disorders_ against him, even thinking about the black triangle tattoo-mark-thing that sat on his lower back, even with _everything_ swimming through his head, he couldn't fight. Deep down, he didn't want to.

It was so wrong, it was all so fucked up and wrong and stupid and awful but he _wanted_ it, he _needed_ it.

“Look, the sooner we get there, the sooner we can go back to the hotel,” said Mabel, glancing at Pacifica. Dipper snapped out of his thoughts with her voice. “So let’s just do it and we can wonder about that dude’s choice of meeting places later.”

Dipper rounded a corner, drove down a very poorly paved back street, then swerved around an old crane and found himself in front of the building with the address Omar had given him. Through the windows, it was pitch black, and it didn’t seem to have a very steady foundation.

“This is _so_ sketchy,” Pacifica muttered, but she was the first to get out of the car. The other three followed, looking cautiously up at the structure.

“So, what, we just go in?” Dipper asked, as if the others had the answer.

Mabel shrugged. “I guess so.”

“See, there’s something weird about this guy,” said Pacifica in an undertone as they approached the entrance. Dipper pushed open the door with a loud _creak_ and they stepped inside. “Who asks a bunch of people they barely know out to a creaky old building in the middle of nowhere _at night?”_

“Maybe he has his reasons,” Mabel defended. “Let’s give him the benefit of the doubt. I mean, he's gotta keep all of his records somewhere else because it's super secretive and stuff. There's gotta be other immortal dudes in human bodies running around, right?"

Dipper was torn between agreeing with Pacifica that this was sketchy as fuck and agreeing with Mabel because he was so _curious._ The creepiness of the building and of the situation was unsettling, sure, but this was _an actual professor,_ a guy with a bunch of degrees on his office wall and a guy who knew Pacifica's dad. He had to be legitimate. And he didn't look a thing like Damian.

 _Looks can be deceiving,_ Bill pointed out.

_Still, he's gotta be a real person._

Then, a voice from down the hall. “Mason? Is that you?”

“Yeah, we’re here!” Dipper called, relieved. “Where are you?”

“In a room past those banisters on the left!” Omar shouted in reply.

“Well, at least he’s _here,”_ Pacifica huffed, hurrying forward. "Can you imagine if he didn't even _show up -"_

Suddenly, a _crack,_ and Pacifica swore loudly. “ _Shit!_ Son of a _bitch!”_

Mabel was the first to turn around and run to her side. “You okay? What happened??” she demanded, kneeling by Pacifica, who had fallen on the floor.

“It’s my - _ow,_ it’s my fucking foot, it got stuck in something, I can’t get it out.” She tried to shift her leg to no avail. “Help me, will you, Mabes? You guys go on ahead.” She gestured for the men to continue. “We’ll catch up, just give us a minute. _Ow,_ stupid piece of shit, I _knew_ these were knockoffs...”

Dipper glanced at Bill and shrugged, then kept walking, their feet making hollow sounds on the flooring.

 _They’ll be okay,_ Bill thought, sensing Dipper’s anxiety. _It’s not like we’re leaving them -_

A huge, deafening _CRASH_ sounded from behind them and they were abruptly thrown forward, tripping over cracks in the floors and falling on their faces, everything going dark for a split second, their ears popping, the world turning upside-down.

Dust, everywhere, Dipper couldn’t _breathe_ and everything hurt, his face hurt and his hands were cut open and so were his knees. Panting, he struggled to his feet, wincing at the sudden pain. He could hardly see in the dark, it was too full of dust and there was absolutely no light in the room. There was a throbbing ache in his head and in his chest and he was wracked by panic, swaying on his feet.

“Bill!” he shouted. “Are you here?”

“Yeah, I’m here.” A loud cough, and then Bill was staggering out of the dust, coughing repeatedly to try to get it out of his mouth. His hands, too, were cut and bleeding.

“So, what -?”

It only took one look behind them to see what had happened. A whole section of the building had _caved in,_ had collapsed barely feet behind them, completely obstructing their path. Great chunks of concrete, brick, and mortar were piled over ten feet high

Horror stung every nerve in Dipper’s body, _Mabel and Pacifica Mabel MABEL “MABEL!”_ he shouted at the top of his lungs. “Are you back there?!” _Oh, God, oh God, I brought them here, I brought her here I brought her here she can't be hurt she can't be hurt -_

“We’re here! And we’re okay!” came Mabel's voice from behind the huge wall of debris. "I mean, aside from Paz's ankle. It's just really dusty!"

He breathed a huge sigh of relief, then nearly hacked up a lung trying to inhale because of the dust. “That’s - thank God.”

“Are you guys okay?” Mabel called.

“Yeah, yeah, we’re fine, we’re - how the _hell_ could that have happened??” Dipper demanded, staring up at where the rubble had fallen from. “I mean, this isn’t the greatest building but it’s not _that_ shaky - and where the hell is Omar?? He had to have heard that.”

Dipper turned around once again to see that a figure was coming towards them, walking slowly.

“Professor!” he shouted. “My sister n’ her friend, they’re stuck behind the cave-in!”

No answer, but the figure kept approaching, walking like he was slogging through mud.

Dipper took a step back, _something’s wrong something's really wrong,_ he could feel goosebumps all over his arms, he could sense the same alarm bells going off in Bill's head, _fight or flight_ _fight or flight._

He summoned some of his remaining energy and formed a ball of magic, glowing bright purple-white in the dark, and lifted it in the air, let it hover a few inches above his hand. It cast beams of light across the room, throwing everything into sharp relief despite the dust, and Dipper immediately wished he'd left the room dark.

The man that was Professor Omar was _melting,_ skin and clothing dripping like wax and shedding like snakeskin and his own hands were tearing his body apart, digging his fingernails into his scalp and pulling, ripping his head apart, fingernails tearing great gaps in the side of his head. Dipper could only watch in a frozen, mortified terror at the sight of the man shredding himself to pieces. Remains fell at the man’s feet, gathered at his wrists and his ankles, and despite the skin peeling off of his face and arms and body he was still _walking._ Hands grabbed what remained of Omar’s face and ripped it off, tossing it aside; tore the skin from the stomach down and ripped it off his legs, letting it fall like discarded clothing at his feet.

It was as he stepped distastefully out of the shedded, melted, eviscerated skin that Dipper realized just how wrong they had been all along. The body may have been organic, but what had been possessing it was not.

“Hello, Mason, Bill,” Damian greeted them pleasantly, eyes glowing in the dark and his black hands writhing in a mass behind him. “Such a pleasure to see you again."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **last edited: 9.10.16**
> 
> i've started posting the dm oneshots, as promised!! as of right now, you can read them [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5430002/chapters/12546659). i already have a ton of these planned and i'm gonna post them even after i finish dm because i love this universe so much. damn.
> 
> as always thank you so much for all of your likes and bookmarks and everything, you're all fantastic!!


	23. Chapter Twenty-Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> VIFE EGUDU CEODCJ MQ TAE PLV  
> PJEG FCGWGF BXCZKWL HOX AYB XHG BXCZKWL HRBEYB.

The brief stillness that had fallen after Damian spoke was broken when Bill _snarled,_ a dark animalistic sound ripped from the back of his throat, and he leaped forward like a wildcat, his pointed teeth bared and his eyes flashing red.

He was barely moving for three seconds before the black hands shot forward and lashed themselves around his wrists, his ankles, and his chest, stopping him in his tracks.

Damian shook his head. “Really, you’ll have to put more thought into your attacks.” He folded his arms across his chest. “You should know better by now.”

“What the _fuck,”_ Bill snarled, “do you think you’re doing?”

“How are you even _here?”_ Dipper blurted out. He gestured at the mess of gore beneath Damian’s feet. “What - you -” He felt a sudden wave of nausea and clapped a hand over his mouth.

Damian just laughed, black hands waving behind him. “What, you’ve never heard of demonic possession? He’s a person - well, _was_ a person.” Damian kicked at the discarded skin and body with a distasteful look. “I found him in his dreamscape while he slept, then just kind of…” He wiggled his fingers. “ _Took_ his soul and threw it off into the dreamscape somewhere. I suppose it’s stuck there now.” He shrugged.

“But - how did you know - him??”

“Well, I’ll hand it to you that your little salt trick kept me out of your town, but only _physically,_ mind you.” He tapped his temple with a finger. “I could still see into your mind.”

“But -” Dipper gestured wildly at his head. “I had - there was -”

“What, those _mind barriers_ Bill put up? You really thought that _I,_ another dream demon, couldn’t get past them?” Damian sneered. “You underestimate me.”

Dipper looked over at Bill, dismayed. “But you said -”

“I know what I said!” Bill snapped, his irises now glowing red. “I thought they would work, it was the best I could do!”

“Well, as usual, you fall short,” said Damian in mock sympathy. “Your ego is out of _control._ I wouldn’t have expected _that_ to happen with a demon who fell out of favor with his house, but you’ve always been _eccentric._ What _happened_ between you and them, anyway? You didn't tell me last time, how embarrassing is it?"

“Doesn’t matter,” Bill growled, struggling against the arms that held him. “It happened, it’s done, it’s been over 40 years.”

“And won’t it be _tragic_ when your house learns that you failed _again?"_ Damian sighed dramatically. “They might not _ever_ welcome you back.”

“Failed at _what?”_ Dipper asked cautiously, stepping back from where Bill stood with his feet braced apart.

Damian looked at him, genuine surprise in his purple-blue eyes, then threw back his head and laughed, a wild manic laugh that seemed to echo throughout the room and sent shivers down Dipper’s spine.

“He doesn’t know? _He really doesn’t know?”_ Damian demanded of Bill, stepping closer to him, still laughing. “You haven’t _told_ him _why_ you claimed him?”

“I told him, he knows,” Bill replied, clenching his fist. “He knows, Damian.”

“Does he? Have you been _honest?”_

Then, with an explosion of light, Bill was knocked backwards and into the pile of rubble, still with the black hands holding him tightly. When the dust cleared, he staggered forward with tears in his clothes and blood welling at new cuts all over his body. He coughed and blood ran down the side of his mouth.

Dipper gasped at the sudden pain that hit him from all around, he could feel the tiny slashes in his arms and legs and sides, could feel the pain in his stomach. Aftershock of Bill’s injuries. One of the headspace’s downsides he had almost forgotten about.

The hands hauled Bill forward and he nearly tripped, still fighting against them. At near lightspeed, he yanked his arm close to his face and sunk his teeth into one of the black hands.

Damian let out an unearthly _shrieking_ sound, something that made Dipper hastily clap his hands over his ears. It was as if a bat’s cry was at a frequency that humans could hear.

Turning to Bill, Dipper saw that he had the still-wriggling black hand in his _mouth,_ some kind of black oily substance leaking from where his teeth had pierced it and dripping down his chin. He spat it onto the ground and then took advantage of Damian’s pain and shock to light his hands on fire, blue-white flame erupting in his palms and flickering up his arms. He jumped forward, his feet light on the concrete, and punched Damian straight in the face.

Damian snarled in fury, the same inhuman noise that Bill had made, and hissed out something unintelligible. Whatever it was, it made Bill stop in his tracks.

“You remember?” Bill asked, breathing heavily.

“I make a point to remember most things,” Damian replied, much more casual. “It’s a shame you’ve forgotten the old tongue. Can you even say _my_ name?”

Bill frowned for a second, then made a series of odd hissing and clicking noises.

“Eh, close enough,” said Damian with a shrug. His black hands shot out and slashed open Bill’s chest.

Dipper shouted both in shock and sudden pain, lurching forward and stumbling and nearly falling to his hands and knees. Bill was holding his ground despite the blood starting to well at the long slashes down his front, the fire on his hands scorching Damian’s clothing and setting fire to some of the black hands, including the bleeding stump of the one that Bill had bitten off. Bill managed to land a hit on Damian’s solar plexus, sending him tripping backwards, but Damian recovered quickly, launching himself forward again and using some kind of magical force to throw Bill back against the wall of rubble.

Bill slammed into it for a second time, spitting blood as he did so, looking broken and battered when he fell onto his knees, his whole body shaking with his breathing, blood dripping from his mouth onto the ground.

Damian walked forward casually despite a limp and blood staining the fabric of his shirt over a chest wound. His eyes gleamed with a kind of victory as he smiled demurely and combed some hair back from his face.

Dipper had collapsed, huddled into a ball with his hands over his eyes and his fingers digging into his scalp, he didn’t want to _feel,_ he felt _everything_ that Bill was feeling, pure white hot anger and so much _pain,_ phantom blood dripping from his own mouth and nose and chest. He begged for it to end, for all of it to stop, for Damian to just _leave_ to leave them alone forever and let them live without this _pain -_

Bill had gotten to his feet again, bruised and aching but still with his teeth bared and his hands flaming and prepared to fight.

Damian observed him with something close to admiration. “You’re such a _fighter,_ Bill. I like that. A lot more fun. But I’m not necessarily here to kill you.”

Bill coughed out more blood and didn’t respond.

“I want your human.”

This sent a fresh shock of fury through the headspace, bloodlust and a hunger for violence, protectiveness and _possession_ and _mine mine mine MINE_ all hammering themselves into Dipper’s skull, and he stayed on the ground, unable to get up, not wanting to.

“You’ll _never_ get him,” Bill spat. The fire on his hands was pure white with his blinding rage. “He’s _mine,_ Damian. I claimed him a long time ago. His whole family is _mine._ You know what happens when you go after somebody’s claim. I have a _perfectly reasonable_ motive for ripping your head off your body and tearing you apart.” He licked some blood off his lips. “And I’ll _enjoy it.”_

“I’m sure you would! But if Mason came willingly…” Damian’s words trailed into a tense, furious silence.

“I won’t.”

Dipper was shocked that he had managed to speak, considering he was still sitting on the floor with his head in his hands. “I w-won’t, I won’t go with you. Never. After -?” He pointed at the human remains again, his hand trembling. “You’d do the same to me.”

Damian looked personally offended. “I would _never_ do that to one of _my_ humans, Mason. That was my tool.” He jerked his head at Bill. “You’re _his_ prized possession. But you would be my _ally,_ my _partner.”_

“He’s lying,” Bill growled, his words echoing forcefully in the headspace. “He’d treat you the same way I do.”

“Wrong again!” Damian countered almost cheerfully, pivoting on his feet. “You two have a _history._ I did some hunting around and I know that he’s made your life a living hell in the past,” he directed to Dipper, who only cringed. “Nearly killing you, trying to kill your family, trying to destroy the world, fucking with your head, manipulating you, and you _stay??_ Why in the name of all that is holy do you _stay_ with him?”

_Because our souls are bonded together. Because he’s suddenly my lifeline. Because I need him. Because I want him._

“I need him,” Dipper mumbled.

Damian snorted derisively. “You _need_ him? Oh, Bill, you did a good job with this one. You must’ve improved your tactics because this is _excellent._ Your human _needs_ you. What did you do to pull _that_ off?”

Bill wiped some blood off his chin. “Maybe I’m just the friendly neighborhood demon,” he said scathingly.

“Or maybe you lied and manipulated like what our kind is designed to do.” Damian folded his arms. “Mason, do you know _why_ demons claim humans?”

Dipper raised his head slightly from his hands. “To get power,” he replied, his voice low and weak.

“Correct! But what do we use that power for?” Damian prompted.

Dipper frowned; he didn’t actually know.

Damian glanced over at Bill with a broad, wicked grin on his face. “Do you want to tell him, or should I? It’ll be _sweet_ either way.”

“ _Stop,”_ Bill snarled, his hands and arms burning with fire. “I’ll tear you in half if you say one more word to him -”

He was cut off when many of Damian’s black hands shot forward and lashed his wrists together, wrapped themselves around Bill and a nearby banister, incapacitating him and leaving Dipper alone.

His mind was in full-on panic mode. Not only was his whole body still shaking with pain, Bill’s anger, fury, and _fright_ was swimming around in his head and only making his own emotions worse. And there - sudden locks, great silver deadbolts popping up all over Bill’s mind.

“Why don’t we talk, just the two of us?” Damian suggested kindly to Dipper, kneeling down beside him. “I can explain everything that he won’t tell you.”

Dipper took a long breath and exhaled, keeping his gaze far away from the demon. “Fine. Tell me.”

“He’s going to lie,” Bill growled, struggling against his bonds to no avail. “He’s going to _lie.”_

“Like _you_ haven’t lied?” Damian shot back. “That’s part of what we _do._ We lie. And you have a _huge_ repertoire of lies, don’t you? Let’s see.” Damian closed his eyes and hummed. Three of the hands pressed against Bill’s head. “Oh, you’re great at finding loopholes. _That_ really gave you a bonus, didn’t it?”

Absentmindedly, Damian raised his hand and brushed his knuckles against Dipper’s cheek. “What did you _do,_ Mason?” he murmured, overly sympathetic. “What have you done to fool yourself? You played right into his trap, all his intricate little tripwires, you managed to catch yourself on _all_ off them. Why bother with him?”

Dipper looked away hastily; Damian’s purple-blue eyes saw so much in him at that second, his vulnerabilities and his weaknesses.

And then Damian found it, his hand still against Dipper’s head, fingers grazing his temples. His eyes lit up with a manic glow. “ _A_ _h!_ So _that’s_ the big secret! _That’s_ what I haven’t been able to see for so long, that’s why you can’t leave him. You two have a _soul bond.”_

He swung his head over and gave Bill a disbelieving look. “ _You_ willingly bound your soul to a human? Unbelievable. What did he offer you in exchange? Is that how you got your body? I suppose it _does_ make the process easier, having a physical form. I would know.”

“Shut the hell up,” Bill said harshly. “He doesn’t -”

“Oh, but he _does!_ You’ve been hiding information from him, how _shameful,_ aren’t soulmates supposed to share _everything?_ And yet your mind is full of deadbolts and locks! You’ll invade his whenever you want, but refuse to share yourself?”

Dipper felt a twinge of resentment because it was _true,_ Bill was so _selfish_ with the headspace, he did whatever he wanted to Dipper’s mind but withheld his own. He was selfish and conniving and a liar -

“Do you know what he was planning to use you for?” Damian asked maliciously, brushing bangs away from Dipper’s forehead. “Use _this_ for?” He touched Dipper’s birthmark with his index finger and Bill reacted as though he’d been electrocuted, thrashing more urgently than before, his teeth bared in fury, eyes red in bloodlust.

“Stop fucking _touching_ him -”

“Do you even know what this means?? Did he never tell you?? It means you carry an extraordinary amount of magical potential, of magical power. With the right training, you could become masterful, even a conqueror. But with such a gift comes a great drawback: you’re prone to _corruption.”_ Damian over pronounced the word, his tongue bouncing off his teeth.

An uneasy feeling settled in the back of Dipper’s throat and behind his heart, sinking into his ribs. “Corruption?” he asked dumbly.

“And he was planning on taking advantage of that, like with every human he’s claimed. There’s a reason our humans tend to die young, you know. Our plans often end in _fatalities._ ”

“He’s lying,” Bill snarled, struggling against his bonds again, even the white-hot flames on his arms not enough to burn through the black arms that held him back. “P - _Dipper,_ he’s _lying,_ he’s trying to convince you to join him, you can’t trust him.”

And it made sense, of _course_ he can’t trust Damian, _he’s saying all of this because of his weird grudge thing and he wants to turn me against him -_

“Do you want proof, Mason? Proof that _he’s_ the one who’s been keeping secrets from you?” Damian asked patiently, stepping back.

Dipper glanced over at Bill, listened to the headspace, _don’t trust him don’t trust him he’s lying he’s lying he’s lying._ Listened to himself, all of the emotions that had been so prominent in the last two months, feeling victimized, worried, afraid, humiliated, embarrassed, powerless, guilty -

“I want proof. Proof that it’s _not_ true.”

There was a flicker of shadow across Bill’s eyes, and then the arms withdrew and he slumped to the floor, coughing, angry red welts around his wrists and neck. Damian strode over to him and the hands hauled him to a sitting position, took a handful of his hair and yanked his head back. There was a cut on Bill’s forehead that was dripping blood onto his cheek and it smeared across Damian’s hand. “Ready to be _honest?”_ Damian asked quietly, crouching forward so his face only an inch away from Bill’s, his eyes glowing. “Tell your human the _truth_ and let’s see how your little soul bond holds up.”

Bill cleared his throat. “Fine. Come here,” he directed to Dipper, his voice hoarse, though he didn’t look at him.

Dipper managed to get to his feet and stumbled over to Bill, sitting next to him.

_Are you okay?_

_Do I look okay? Let’s just - just do this._

Bill was _shaking,_ it could have been anger or fear or pain or something else, Dipper couldn’t tell. But he rested his hands on Dipper’s neck and leaned in, their foreheads touching.

Everything was easier to access, then, but the pain was more obvious and going off in bursts behind their eyelids. Reluctantly, the deadbolts melted away, the locks disappeared, the blank spots faded. Bill took Dipper’s metaphysical hand and directed him towards one of the formerly deadbolted areas, and so he entered the thoughts.

There was a burst of color. Great fiery reds and oranges, clouds turning the color of rust and the world’s greens and blues fading to the same rust, fire and destruction everywhere. Up above sat a massive X-shaped rip in the sky, like criss-crossing slashes made by some great godly knife, filled with psychedelic neon blues and greens and yellows and there were _things_ emerging from it, shadowy things and horribly disfigured things and things dripping with gore landing upon the soil and pavement and concrete.

The “camera” panned out, moved and changed scenes to some dark place where the ground was lit up by an alchemagical circle marked with runes and shapes. In the reflected light, Dipper saw _himself,_ his expression set and his eyes dark and his eyes tinged with yellow and looking as though he hadn't slept in ages. As his hands were pressed to the glowing circle, lightning crackled from the runes, flashing brightly and briefly in the darkness. And somehow Dipper knew that the him in this space had no idea what he was doing. In this dark room that seemed to be far beneath the surface of the earth, he didn’t know what went on above.

The “camera” panned out again and Dipper could see the world bursting into flames and people _dying,_ screaming as the very flesh melted right off their blackened bones, civilization itself crumbling and collapsing.

There was Mabel, looking horrified and scared but miraculously unharmed, not even any tears or scorch marks on her clothes, barely a hair out of place. The camera shifted back, she ran to the mind-Dipper shouting something, her voice soundless, and he was shocked, the yellow in his eyes fading, quickly removing his hands from the circle, but the damage was done. Mabel clutched his arm and was still shouting something, tears welling at the corners of her eyes, and mind-Dipper was shaking in utter panic.

Camera pan once again. Complete and total destruction. The world falling apart. The camera rose up, rose up into the sky until Dipper could see the entirety of what was beneath him and it was _his home,_ it was Gravity Falls, it wasn’t some random city or an imaginary place it was _his home_ falling apart and being destroyed and people were falling in the streets and being taken or even simply _disappearing_ into thin air.

And he realized. He was seeing it all through Bill’s eyes. This horror, this raw panic, this _hell_ that was descending it upon the world. And he himself had made it happen. _His fault._ His hell. And Bill was _laughing,_ laughing loud and shrilly and _the world was finally his._

And it was his own fault. Because of his own naivete. Because he _trusted._

Because there was nothing in the world he needed more than his soulmate.

His hands grabbed blindly at Bill’s shoulders and shoved him violently away, scrambling away from him, saying “ _no”_ over and over and over without feeling the words coming out of his mouth. His mind was still filled with neon and blood. His vision was blurry and Bill's face swam in front of him.

“You were - you were going to - I was - I’m -” All he could do was stammer. Nothing else was working.

Damian was floating in midair, his hands forming a kind of seat beneath him, and looking smug as all hell, his pointed teeth bared in a smile. “Well? I was right, wasn’t I? You see, Mason? I don’t lie.”

Dipper looked at him but could hardly understand him, still in shock. The headspace was shuddering, vibrating, almost cracking. The bonds that held them so tightly together were loosening, almost snapping. _He was fucking USING me he was using me -_

“Dipper.”

He turned around, looked at Bill and flinched at the very sight of him. The demon’s expression was unreadable.

_We need to get out. I know you’re mad -_

_I’m not mad I’m fucking_ furious _I just can’t -_ the vibrations in the headspace were getting stronger and Dipper couldn’t articulate his thoughts into words - _I fucking hate you I hate you I hate you -_

There was an explosion of light; Bill had attacked Damian and the demons were engaged in battle again, fast and furious, _vicious,_ blood spattered the ground and soaked their clothes and they were a whirlwind of magic and fire and black hands and limbs.

Bill extended an arm behind him, a ball of pure magical power appearing in his hand. It swelled to a certain size, then shot out like a laser and blasted a hole through the rubble.

“Run!” he shouted. “Get out!”

Dipper nodded, still unable to look Bill in the eye. “Hurry. Separation pain.”

“I know.” Bill’s hands erupted into flames once again. “I’ll make this quick.” There was the gleam of bloodlust in his eyes.

Damian stared at him with the same fury, his fists clenched at his sides and his hands thrashing behind him, then laughed cruelly. " _Will_ you? Try me, Bill."

"I'll try you," Bill snarled, his knees bent, ready to jump. "I'll fucking rip you limb from limb.  _All_ of your limbs."

"Do your best!" And Damian threw himself at Bill, his hands glowing with magic and his hands shooting ahead of him. Bill spat in fury and met him, his flaming hands ready to burn and tear.

Dipper shuddered, then turned and ran through the hole, not looking back and nearly slipping in a streak of blood across the ground, trying to ignore the shouts of pain and loud cursing and snapping and crashing sounds, pain burrowing into his head with every action he heard, too much, too much, nearly obscuring his vision -

He was jogging weakly and was halfway down the pitch black tunnel when he ran smack into his sister.

“Dipper? This is you, right?” Mabel asked anxiously, her hands on his shoulder and poking him in the cheek. “Feels like you.”

“It’s me,” he said, and his voice seemed to come from a great distance.

Mabel gestured ahead of her, where Dipper had come from. “I heard this huge blast -”

“It’s Damian,” Dipper cut her off. “And he and Bill are fighting.” At the horrified look on her face, he said hastily, “He’s, er, doing okay. I think. He’ll come out.” He put an arm around her shoulder and turned her around to the exit. “We gotta go. Come on.”

They rushed back to the car, where Pacifica was sitting on the hood, holding her damaged shoe and keeping her gaze trained on the doorway.

She nearly fell off the car when they ran out, panting.

“What the hell _happened?”_ she demanded. “How’d you get past all that rubble?”

“Bill blasted a hole in it,” Dipper replied gruffly. “Magic. Get in the car, we’re leaving the second he gets out here.”

“Why, what’s -”

“The demon who’s trying to kill him.”

Pacifica sniffed. “Of _course._ Was Omar a disguise, or…?”

"Omar was a real person.” Dipper took a deep breath and exhaled. “Damian possessed him, took control of his body, and left his soul stranded in the mindscape.”

Mabel, who understood demon lingo more so than Pacifica, looked mortified, while Pacifica was just disgruntled and confused and probably inwardly terrified.

“So - so what happened when he -”

“It was really gross, I don’t wanna - I don’t - I can’t talk about it,” Dipper interrupted, his voice heavy. The separation pain was starting to stab his head all over, needles and knives, _get out here get out here now,_ “We can - later. Later.”

And then _thank God_ Bill was there, sprinting to the car and opening the side door with such force that he nearly ripped it off its hinges. “Drive, drive, we have to get out _now,”_ he said sharply.

Dipper had already started the car and was backing out, tires screeching on the asphalt. “Why?”

“I rigged an explosion. Go faster.”

“You _rigged -”_

There was a deafening _BOOM_ from behind them and Dipper slammed his foot on the gas pedal, throwing them forward and speeding way too fast down the cracked street, almost bouncing off of bumps in the pavement.

Mabel and Pacifica had turned in the backseat to look. “Holy _shit,”_ Pacifica swore; Dipper had never realized how much she cussed until today. “Okay, Dipper, your boyfriend just blew up a building.”

Dipper flinched at the word _boyfriend,_ considering what he had learned. “Seriously?? Why did you _blow it up?_ I thought you were just going to kill him,” he said, glancing at Bill, still not wanting to look at him, _he had his arms around me four hours ago but he was using me he was fucking using me._

“T’ make sure he couldn’t follow us.” Bill coughed up some blood and wiped it on his pant leg. “He could’ve seen the car leave.”

“You didn’t kill him?”

Bill shook his head. “Couldn’t.” And he said nothing more on the matter.

 

Back at the hotel, they were packing. Pacifica had managed to book last-minute flights for Portland, and their flight left at 11. It was already almost 10:30.

Dipper had closed off his side of the headspace. He could feel Bill’s thoughts bouncing off of his barrier, could still sense his emotions, but shared none of his own. He deadbolted everything he could possibly deadbolt. If Bill noticed, he didn’t say anything. In fact, neither of them said anything more than asking each other where the toothpaste was or if one of them already packed the phone charger.

Dipper opened the headspace once, just as they were boarding the plane. _We’re talking about this when we get home, but not until then._

There was a pause, then, _Okay._

Because it was last minute, nobody was sitting next to each other, which Dipper was extremely grateful for, though he would have liked to be with his sister. She was a few seats back, doing something on her phone. He didn’t know where the other two had gone. He checked the time on his phone and felt a jolt somewhere behind his stomach when he thought of what he was doing exactly 24 hours ago. _His hands on me, his body on mine, his mouth -_ He shook his head roughly and sat back, closing his eyes.

Exhausted after the events of the day but consumed with worry and anger, Dipper was shocked to jerk awake three and a half hours later when the flight attendant announced their descent into Portland.

They joined each other at the gate, everyone’s moods rather somber as they hurried down to the short-term parking, where Pacifica had parked her car two days ago.

“I was able to get us two rooms at the airport Marriott,” she said briskly as they pulled out of the garage. “So we’ll spend the night and head home tomorrow morning.”

Everybody was tired and anxious and had no disagreement with Pacifica’s plan. Dipper didn’t speak or think to Bill at all. The stone-cold silence continued into the next morning.

 

“We’re talking about this.”

Bill turned to face Dipper from his position on the loveseat in Dipper’s room, looking resigned. “Okay, what -”

“How can you fucking _do_ this??” Dipper burst out, unable to hold in his anger and frustration for any longer. “How could you do this to _me?_ To _Mabel?_ To the people who fucking let you stay in our house and put up with your _bullshit -”_

Bill rolled his eyes. “And you say _I’m_ dramatic. Look, little tree, if you’re expecting _guilt,_ you’re not going to get any. I can recognize it now, but I can’t _feel_ it. I can look like a person, act like a person, talk like a person, _feel_ like a person, but I’m _not_ a person! I don’t feel your emotions!” He crossed his legs and pushed some hair out of his face. “So _please,_ don’t waste any time appealing to my _conscience.”_ He gestured at his head. “I don’t have one.”

“It - you - th - you can at least recognize that that’s a super fucked up shitty thing to do!” Dipper snapped. He shook his head. “Did you really think that I was ever gonna agree to do something like that??” he demanded. “Go along with some plan of yours without even understanding what it was?? Do you think I’m _that_ stupid??”

Bill shrugged. “Who knows what would’ve happened a few years from now? Damian was right when he talked about _corruption._ You’re easy to influence. Easy to convince. If you go with the right tactics, of course. And I think I’ve found yours: _validation. Attention. Praise.”_ He grinned, his eyes narrowing. “You react _remarkably_ well to praise.”

Dipper stared at Bill like he’d never really looked at him before, looked past his hair and his eyes and his body and seen the demon underneath. _He manipulates. He lies. This is who he is. This is what he does. How could I ever have seen anything different? Anything_ human?

“So that - the -” He made a few feeble gestures with his hands.

Bill sighed loudly and for more time than necessary. “It was, initially. There were a few things I didn’t take into consideration.” He put his hand over his mouth and deliberately looked away from Dipper. “A claim with a human is much different when there’s a soul bond involved. Certain... _things_ happened that I wasn’t expecting. Y’see, ordinarily, we claim humans, we make them useful to us, and then we don’t care what happens to them, sometimes they die in our attempts at destruction, sometimes they live on, after they serve us it doesn’t matter. But…” He sighed again. “I want you alive, little tree. I want you alive _always._ Even if you hate me, I want to see you live the rest of your life.”

His hands twitched. “You have no idea - you will _never_ be able to comprehend the violence that I feel when Damian even _looks_ at you. And when he put his hands on you - I would have torn the whole world apart to keep you away from him. If there was a choice between you dying at another’s hands or at mine, if it came to that, I would make sure it was mine. _No one_ is allowed to hurt you.” He smiled again, a little wryly. “And you don’t seem to mind that I’m so _protective_ of you.”

Dipper thought of how his stomach swooped two nights ago when Bill had him pressed against a wall, teeth in his shoulder, and felt nauseous.

“So, yes, originally, everything was for the purpose of manipulating you into being receptive of my plans and ideas, but _that_ stupid thing fucked it all up.” He tapped at his head. “You’re just as much a part of me as I am a part of you, and I didn’t want to see you leave or see you die.” He coughed. “This is also the first _physical_ relationship I’ve ever had with a claim.”

Dipper’s fists were still clenched. “But you were still going to use me to bring on the apocalypse.”

“That was the plan, yep. With your magical ability, you would act as an _incredible_ **catalyst.”**

“But - in our deal, you said you would never hurt me or my family!”

“And I wasn’t planning on it! Didn’t you notice how Star was _fine_ in that prediction? You and your family would go unharmed.” Bill waved his hand. “So you’d have front row seats to watch the world end.”

Dipper looked at him in distaste. “I don’t - I don’t want that! I wouldn’t - I wouldn’t let you do it! You think I wouldn’t fight back once I discovered what you did??”

“What _you_ did,” Bill corrected him, half-smiling. “I can hand you a gun, little tree, but you’re the one pulling the trigger.”

Dipper saw in his mind’s eye again the people screaming, flesh melting off of their blackened bones, collapsing in the streets, turning to stone, disappearing into thin air. _His fault._

“And you would be so easy to work with afterwards. Sure, you’d be _mad,_ but more than that, you would be _horrified_ with yourself. Self-deprecating, depressed, hating yourself. Humans are _very_ malleable in that situation. That’s why _this_ whole situation has been such a picnic.” Bill gestured between them. “It’s _my_ praise that you’re learning to listen to, my attention and validation, and it’s so _sweet.”_ His tongue lingered on his teeth on the _T._ “ It’s so much _fun_ to bounce between taunting and complimenting you, confusing you so much.”

On some level, Dipper had always known that Bill was intentionally messing with him by going between these two extremes, but it was still a punch to the gut to hear him admit it so casually. He realized his legs were shaking and he hobbled over to his bed to sit down.

Bill heaved another sigh. “ _But,_ that’s never going to happen now, is it.”

“No.”

“You’re never going to trust me.”

“Never. I’m not that stupid,” Dipper said bitterly, looking at the floor. _I did. So briefly, but I did._

“I suppose that’s only to be expected. Well, I’ll find some other use for you, I suppose,” Bill said nonchalantly, reclining.

“No.” Dipper shook his head viciously. “No. No. I’m not living like this. I’m not living like this anymore. I’m not going to sit here and wait for you to come up with some other plan to manipulate me into going along with your fucking plans to destroy the world. I’m not letting that happen to myself.”

He turned his back to Bill. “Get out.”

There was a creaking sound as Bill stood up. “Listen, for what it’s worth - I _am_ sorry for dragging you into this whole Damian mess,” he offered.

“ _Hnh._ Damian was the one who told me the _truth,”_ Dipper retorted. “ _You_ were never going to unlock that part of the headspace.”

Bill snorted. “Damian only told you the truth to turn you against me, he would withhold the same information from the humans he claims.”

“How am I supposed to trust that?”

“You can trust me on _this,_ little tree, as a demon talking about another demon.”

Dipper kept his gaze on the floor. “Get out,” he repeated. “I don’t want to - I don’t want to be near you right now.”

Bill raised his hands. “Fair enough.” He paused. “Y’know, little tree, I _hate_ emotions. But I would strike down a hundred other demons to understand you.”

Dipper said nothing. Bill teleported and was gone.

Numb, Dipper fell onto his side, stared at the wall, and thought. He thought and thought until he knew.

 

It was midnight, a full moon illuminating the world below, light bouncing off the trees and ice-capped mountains. It was cool but not chilly, and Dipper wore a hoodie as he leaned back against a tree, scrolling aimlessly through a website on his phone.

His eyes flickered to the top of his phone to check the time, then glanced over at the road he had stepped away from.

“Damn,” he muttered. “Asshole better show up.”

Footsteps on gravel. “Talking about me?”

Dipper glanced up and pocketed his phone. “Okay, good, you’re here.”

“And?”

Dipper took a deep breath and exhaled. “And, I’ve decided. I’ll go with you.”

Damian’s indigo eyes burned like fires, his pupils dilating. “You’re making a good decision, Mason. I promise, I’ll treat you better than _he_ ever did. I’ll be honest with you, and I'll leave your mind alone."

Dipper nodded. “Yeah. I was just - he was manipulating me so much. He wanted to turn me into a weapon," he said bitterly. "And I thought I could trust him." He shuffled his feet in the dirt. "It was stupid."

“That’s _despicable,”_ Damian sympathized. Very suddenly, he reached out and set his hand on Dipper’s forehead. Dipper flinched, cringing away in shock, his heart jumping inside his chest.

And then Damian relaxed, smiling. “Just checking. Well, come on, Mason, we have a lot to discuss.”

Dipper nodded and allowed Damian to put his arm around his shoulders in a protective gesture, grimacing in discomfort.

It wasn’t that Damian had hurt him. There was just a very big, very empty, very painful gap where the headspace used to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> END OF ACT 2
> 
> INTERMISSION
> 
>  
> 
> **last edited: 3.17.16**


	24. Chapter Twenty-Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ACT 3: CONSUMMATION

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey all! hope everyone had a good holiday. gonna take this opportunity to shamelessly promote [my tumblr](smolskey.tumblr.com/tagged/my+art) further; the link goes to my art tag, but you might also be interested in my [writing tag](smolskey.tumblr.com/tagged/skye+writes), which is all minifics. feel free to browse through the rest of my blog. also, the [oneshot collection](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5430002) will continue to update randomly, and i'm having a lot of fun writing them, so you should check them out.
> 
> i gotta say, i really enjoyed reading your comments on 22. i had a good few evil laughs over those. and yes, i see all of your questions - don't worry, things will be answered in time.
> 
> with that being said, here's act 3, the final act of dm. these chapters are gonna be shorter bc of other duties i have to attend to.

A cell phone started ringing, a tinny pop song from the 80’s blaring briefly in the room before a hand, scrabbling at a table, retrieved it.

Dipper struggled to keep his phone between his shoulder and his ear without using his hands. “Hey, Mabes, what’s - _ack -_ what’s going on?”

“Dipper?” she said, concerned. “You okay?”

“Yeah, _ow,_ fine, it’s just - _ow!_ I keep burning myself with this lighter. _Ow.”_

“Why??”

“Because I’m trying to see how long I can hold my hand over it. _Ow._ So far my record’s been...exactly ten seconds.”

Mabel stifled a snort. “ _Really?_ Guess it’s not really heavy lifting over there, huh?”

Dipper shook his head and set the lighter down to reach for a rum n’ coke sitting on the table next to him, then remembered that Mabel couldn’t see him and said, “No way, I’ve done practically _nothing,_ it’s awesome.” He took a drink and then pressed a button on a remote; a television that spanned at least seven feet fast-forwarded through commercials. “Damian’s got like, everything. He literally just lets me do whatever I want as long as I don’t leave th’ house.”

“You can’t leave the house??” Mabel asked in an accusing tone.

“No, but it’s fine, there’s no real reason to leave, it’s just a safety issue. And if he goes out I can go with him.” Dipper made a vague gesture. “Really, it’s fine.” He laughed. “It’s _better._ Damian leaves my head alone! Hasn’t been anywhere near it!”

“Does it still hurt?” Her voice was quiet, a funeral hush.

The contented look on his face faded to a soft frown, something like grief. “Yeah, it does. But it’s getting better, sometimes I can ignore it. It’s fine, really. It’s fine.”

“Okay, if you’re sure. When can I see you?”

“Uhhh, next time we go out, I guess. Couple days? Maybe tomorrow? I’ll ask. How’s the -”

“It’s going fine.” Mabel’s voice was subdued. “It’s - I don’t know.”

“He’s gone, right?”

“Yeah, of course he’s gone, d’you think I’d let him stay with me knowing what he did??” She sighed. “I kicked him out the night you left.”

“Good. Did he take anything?”

“No, he just - he’s gone. I don’t think he’s gonna come back.”

“Wait, is he still a person??”

“Er, yeah, why?”

Dipper ran a hand through his hair, frowning. “That’s…weird. Huh. Okay." His forehead stung with pain and he winced. "Better not talk about it.”

“Headache?”

“Yeah. It comes up whenever I think about that whole mess. I just need to be distracted from it. So what else has been going on?”

“I dunno, Dip, just normal stuff. 30-somethin’ guy hit on me, a kid tried to ride an exhibit. Nothing too crazy. It’s weird being here alone, though. Are you ever coming back?”

“‘Course! After Bill’s back in his realm, I’ll be able to stay there permanently. Damian just wants me at his side until then, which I don't really have a problem with, as long as I can see you and talk to you.”

“And how long is that gonna take?”

“I don't actually know. I think Damian’s waiting for Bill to come to us. I mean, he's going to,” Dipper said firmly, almost trying to convince himself. “I'm still his claim, so he's still protective of me.” Images flickered through his head that he hurriedly shoved out. “Uh, pretty sure, anyway. So I guess whenever that happens, we’ll...get rid of him.”

The words seemed to echo in the great gaping wound that sat inside Dipper’s head. It was the penance of severing the soul bond: he would have to live with that pain for the rest of his life, and would never feel truly whole.

He was stung with guilt and anger whenever his body reminded him that he _missed_ it, he kept posing questions to his mind and getting confused when there was no reply, kept turning around to see empty air, kept reaching for someone who was no longer by his side, would never be by his side again. Distraction via any means, be it alcohol or television or conversation, was his only respite from the aching pain and loneliness.

So he needed his sister more than ever. “Anything else interesting?”

“You called yesterday, Dip, not a lot of exciting stuff happens in 24 hours.”

“I know. I just - I miss you. It’s weird without you.”

Mabel sighed. “Same. Everything just...it fell apart so fast.”

“Yeah, well, we shouldn’t’ve expected any different,” said Dipper roughly. “It was stupid.”

“It’s not stupid to _hope_ for things, bro -”

“‘Course not, but it is when it’s _him.”_ His head blazed with pain for an instant and he hissed an exhale, his free hand flying to his forehead. “ _Fuck,_ I need to stop thinking about it.”

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to bring it up again. You okay?”

“I’m alright. _Ugh.”_ Dipper heard a door open and shut from elsewhere in the house. “I think Damian’s back. I’ll call you tomorrow? Or I might see you tomorrow, I’ll find out.”

“Okay, bro, hope everything goes well.”

“It’s fine. See you.”

“Bye! Love you!”

The phone went dead and Dipper set it back on the table, then took another drink. It eased the pain somewhat, but he was still sore.

A creaking of the floorboards announced Damian’s arrival. “You haven’t moved, I see,” he commented from the doorway of the lounge.

Dipper glanced in his direction and grinned a little sheepishly. “What can I say, man, you have on demand, I could sit here for _days.”_

Damian laughed his rolling, deep laugh. “Well, we can’t have _that,_ we have training to do, errands to run.”

“Thought you were just out running errands.” The demon was wearing a pressed blue shirt and khaki pants and carrying shopping bags and looked like some kind of fucking _model,_ Dipper thought with some irritability, some embarrassment. He concluded that good fashion sense and general attractiveness was universal with demon-humans.

“I was running _some_ errands. I figured you would want to buy food yourself.”

“Yeah, I do.” Dipper struggled to get up out of the chair and failed. “Uh, when do you -”

Damian waved his hand dismissively. “Doesn’t matter. Anytime you feel like getting up.” He smiled contentedly, his eyebrows settling above his piercing eyes. “We have no shortage of time.”

“Reminds me, uh, can I see Mabel tomorrow?” Dipper asked, a little anxious.

“Sure, just tell her to meet you somewhere, I’ll drive you,” Damian replied nonchalantly. “Anything else? I know you’re still adjusting after what Bill did to you -”

Dipper visibly winced in pain as something detonated in his head again; every little mention was bad enough, but his _name_ was worse. He put his hands on his temples, tried to mentally contain the explosions to a single area, reduce the impact, and he shut his eyes tight trying to visualize it, just like how he’d done almost two months ago when he and Bill were working with his magic - _no, stop!_ he shouted at himself, as his attempts were shattered with the second name drop. It was bad, _bad bad wrong you miss him YOU MISS HIM_ and he was digging his fingernails into his scalp trying to get the feeling to stop -

Suddenly, warm hands on his own, uncurling his fingers and moving his hands away. Dipper opened his eyes to see Damian gently put his hands against his forehead, frowning, his eyebrows furrowed. “It still hurts.”

Dipper could only nod. Damian was wearing some kind of cologne that was _tantalizing,_ for lack of a better word, not too strong but strong enough.

“Let me see if I can help you.” Damian hummed in concentration and began to murmur something under his breath. As he did so, Dipper felt a prickling feeling in his head, like washing blood off of a cut, watching it run down the drain and stain the water. He could feel something trickling away, he heard a very distant scream, and then the ache was gone.

He stared at Damian in shock. “It’s - it’s -”

“Gone for now,” Damian finished. “It’ll be back soon, but less so. It’ll help, I promise.”

“I - yeah, yeah, t-thanks,” said Dipper hurriedly. He couldn’t meet Damian’s eyes for fear of what he would see there, and kept his gaze down at the arm of the chair. The TV’s current program was nonsensical and so there was no distraction from their closeness.

Thankfully, Damian rose and stepped away only seconds later. The scent of his cologne faded somewhat and Dipper _missed_ it. He felt the first stirs of panic and forced them down. He had gotten used to doing that over the last few months.

“Er, Damian?”

The demon kept his eyes on him. “Yes?”

Dipper shifted in his seat and didn’t raise his head. “What are your plans for me?”

“I thought that was obvious. We tackle our little _problem.”_

“N-no, I mean after that. When it’s over. Then what?”

Damian thought for a moment, then shrugged. “Then I suppose you can do as you please, but I’d like for you to stay close to me. I could always move into your town, of course, that would make things easy…”

“So you don’t want me to, like, do your bidding?? Or whatever demons have their claims do?” Dipper asked blankly.

Damian laughed. “That’s right, you don’t know anything about my house, do you?”

Dipper shook his head. “Nothing.”

Damian sat down in midair, floating, and cleared his throat. “Well, you know that the demons of my house hold lifelong grudges against another being, it’s our one common trait. It is literally the purpose of our existence. However, if the object of our grudge is defeated, we move on to another one. We are immortal beings, after all. So I’ll be spending all of eternity chasing being after being to destroy.”

Dipper shivered a little but changed his sitting position to hide it. “Do you get another grudge right away? I mean, you’ve had this one for like over a thousand years, when would the next one come along?”

“Who knows? It would be the next mortal or immortal to truly _insult_ me in some form or fashion. Mortals are easier to manage, of course, very easy to get rid of, but immortals make everything more challenging. But I _like_ the thrill of the chase, it’s almost been _fun_ chasing after B - my current grudge, no matter how frustrating it can get.” Damian pushed a few stray hairs out of his face.

“So when this is over -”

“Until I have another grudge, you’re free to do as you please. I exist only to destroy single beings, not an entire world, like other demons. That’s the beauty of my house - we don’t cause too much trouble.” Damian smiled, leaning forward and setting his elbow on his knee, then propping up his chin on his fist. “Any questions?” Dipper wasn’t surprised to see that his teeth were pointed.

“So...with the uh. With the Roman people problem that was...discussed. What was up with that?” Dipper asked, carefully avoiding anything that could set off some internal alarm.

Damian curled his lip and Dipper was reminded of the demon’s previous animalistic behavior, the way he jumped and pounced and snarled like a wild animal in combat. This brought a sting from his mind and he pushed the thoughts away.

“It was supposed to be a very simple deal between two houses. Two Roman soldiers, both destined for greatness, given to two of each house’s most powerful demons. But then mine failed and his didn’t, and he gained more power. Early Rome’s expansion, its military might - all him. And _some_ of that should have been _mine,”_ Damian growled, his eyes shining with old anger. “The grudge didn’t form right away, as I had had a previous grudge I was already working on, but once he was defeated, I immediately moved on. I had no choice. My grudge defines my life.”

“And if your soldier _had_ succeeded -”

“Well, I would be more well-known throughout history, more cults and rumors and secret altars and worshippers. This isn’t as important as it is to a chaos demon, or an order demon, or whatever else - I’ve been human for a _long time -_ but it’s kind of a _status_ symbol. You want to look good, make your house look good. You understand.”

Dipper nodded slowly. “Right...okay. That all makes sense. _Wow._ I had no idea there was so much going on in other realms.” He laughed shakily. “I can’t believe I used to not know _any_ of this, and - and now I feel like I know _too_ much. Oh, God.” He was trembling all over and he felt clammy, feverish. He was thinking about everything again, he couldn’t help it, _everything_ reminded him of _him,_ “I can’t - I can’t think about - I’m -”

And in barely a second Damian was holding him, had his steady arms around Dipper’s waist for a moment before raising his hands to Dipper’s head, the heat of his skin somehow counteracting with the overexertion of Dipper’s mind. Dipper instinctively had his arms around Damian’s upper body, hands clutching at his shoulders, and his eyes shut tight. He could hardly hear or feel, could hardly understand, couldn’t even _think,_ there was some absurd white-out going on inside his head.

Eventually, the strange, sickly feeling passed and Dipper found himself slumping forward, completely spent, onto Damian, who kept his hands on his head and was doing some kind of dream demon thing to clear out what remained of the odd assault on Dipper’s subconscious. His methods were aggressive, hacking and slashing away, but they got the job done, and Dipper felt free but exhausted.

“Are you alright?” Damian asked softly, lowering a hand and brushing Dipper’s cheekbone with his thumb. “That was an aftershock reaction I wasn’t expecting. I’m sorry.”

Dipper nodded numbly and mumbled, “M’ fine. Thanks.”

“No more demon talk for today, I think. Not until that wound starts to mend. It’s only been a week or so, give it time, Mason.” Damian’s arms were around Dipper’s waist and his touch was light on the sensitive spot where a black triangle used to sit. New, tender skin had replaced it.

Dipper moved his head slightly to ask, “Why do you call me Mason?”

Damian’s body froze for a moment in surprise. “Well, it’s your name, for a start -”

“But I go by Dipper, and you even _called_ me that in one of my dreams.”

“I guess I figured you were sick of nicknames by now.”

He had never hated his nickname; sure, he got some teasing and hurtful remarks when he was young, but it went away when he was older. The teachers that would call for Mason Pines during roll in school even ended up calling him Dipper.

But as Damian knew, that wasn’t his only nickname.

Dipper grimaced and squeezed his eyes shut, turning his head to the grateful darkness of Damian’s chest again. He couldn’t hear _that voice,_ couldn’t hear those names, couldn’t hear the words said, whispered, pressed into his skin -

This flash of pain seemed to bounce off of some impenetrable border around Dipper’s weary mind.

“You can call me Dipper or Mason, I don’t care,” he said, his voice muffled, still not wanting to turn into the light.

“Are you sure? I want you to be comfortable,” Damian replied, sounding _genuinely concerned,_ one of his hands combing through Dipper’s hair, and Dipper was honest-to-God _shocked._

He withdrew from Damian, scooting away from him; they were on the floor. “What are you?” Dipper demanded, his voice shaking but angry. “You - you say these things to me that - that’re _nice_ but you’re just another demon, right? You just want to use me to help get rid of your grudge and that’s all that matters, isn’t it? That’s the only reason I’m here, the only reason you want me here, the only reason I matter to you _at all,_ right? That’s why you bothered to tell me the truth about him. You just wanted a _pawn.”_

Damian was almost absurdly calm. “Mason, that’s not true.”

“Then _prove it._ He never did.” Dipper felt the bitterness in the back of his throat, felt it in his fists, in the first hint of tears in his eyes that he forced down to the best of his ability. “Prove that you’re better than him.”

“How can I do that?” Damian asked patiently.

“I - I don’t know. I don’t know. I just - I won’t let myself get hurt again. I won’t put _the world_ in danger because of me being a fucking idiot,” Dipper spat. Visions of Bill’s apocalypse flickered through his head, all the fire and blood and destruction and death that continued to plague his nightmares, despite the fact that it would never happen now. “None of you can use me, _or_ my family. I’d die before I let you use me.”

Damian’s expression was almost _sad_ as he beheld the mortal, emotional being before him, and the bridge between their kinds seemed to strengthen if only for a moment when their eyes met and their feelings hung heavily in the air between them.

“I won’t use you for more than what I need,” he replied simply. “And what I need you for is to help defeat him and my future grudges. I’m not trying to destroy the world or take command of it.”

“How am I supposed to trust that?”

“I won’t lie to you: all you have is my word. There might be some book out there that explains it all, but I haven’t bothered to go looking, and those are often full of inaccuracies anyway. You don’t have to trust me, Mason, but there isn’t another source of information you can use. You can go off of what _he_ told you, but how can you tell how much of what he said was the truth?” Damian’s eyes glittered, his expression more intense. “How much has he lied to you since the beginning, since the first time he forced his way into your life? How many times has he broken his promises?”

Dipper looked down at the floor, thinking, thoughts slamming themselves against his skull.

“And how often have _I_ lied to you?”

“You could be,” Dipper mumbled defiantly, though Damian’s words were rather convincing. No matter how honey-sweet and calm Damian was, Dipper was too broken to trust completely, too cautious to let Damian see past his outer shell and into his true insecurities. After all, Bill had used those to his advantage. Damian could do the same. A perfect wolf in sheep’s clothing.

Damian sighed and got to his feet. “You need time. I understand. I think you should talk this over with your sister tomorrow, she seems like an insightful person.”

Dipper looked up at him, frowning. “How -”

“When I was looking through your head that night, I overheard a few conversations, some memories. I apologize for that, by the way. I just wanted to know why you were so determined to stay with him.”

Dipper nodded numbly. “Okay. Uh. It’s fine.”

“Do you want anything? Food, coffee? Liquor?” Damian added as an afterthought, smiling wryly. “I’ve used it as a coping mechanism myself.”

“Sure,” Dipper mumbled, struggling and eventually standing up.

Damian made a move as though to reach out to touch him, then thought better of it and turned, heading for the kitchen and the liquor cabinet.

Dipper watched him go and bit his lip.

_This is gonna be harder than I thought._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gift art! i am _so_ completely flattered and blown away by all of this.
> 
> after a very _interesting_ group of asks i received on tumblr a few weeks ago, the lovely ao3/tumblr user psychosomatic86 has written [this](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5556860) piece of filth. (very very _very_ nsfw.) bless your heart.  
> [this](http://spelon-berry.tumblr.com/post/136201119885/smolskey-i-hope-you-dont-mind-this-terribly-rough) and this are both lovely drawings of damian! thank you!! i'm surprised you guys seem to like him so much.
> 
> and thank you all for over 800 kudos. wow. i never thought dm would get this far, and i'm extremely grateful. thank you so much.


	25. Chapter Twenty-Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> many chapters have been revised in the last two days, so if it's been a while and you have the time, i highly recommend re-reading.
> 
> dm now has a playlist, listen [here!](http://8tracks.com/smolskye/can-you-ever-love-somebody)

“You want chicken for dinner?”

Dipper glanced up at Damian from his position on the floor. He was sitting cross-legged with his hands on his knees, swirling balls of deep blue magic hovering in his palms.

“Sure,” he said eventually.

Damian had been watching the spheres. “You’ve really mastered those summons. Those look pretty solid.”

“They are, check it.” Dipper made a tossing motion with his hand and the sphere of magic flew across the room, bounced off the opposite wall like a rubber ball, and came back to Dipper’s hand.

“Looks like you’re getting better at offensive magic.” A smile twitched on Damian’s face. “Maybe we should have a little mock duel tomorrow.”

Dipper’s surprise made the balls flicker, glitching out like static. “Really? You...you want me to _fight_ you?” he asked incredulously. “Like, with magic, and stuff?” He waved his hands and the spheres moved with them.

Damian laughed. “Well, I wouldn’t be giving it my _all,_ that’s for sure, but it would be good practice. For you _and_ for me, I need to prepare myself.” Two black hands emerged from his back as he mused to himself, the boneless arms moving slowly and in sync through the air. “Of course, your fighting style is way different...less _dramatic…_ ”

“Okay, I mean, I’m up for it,” said Dipper, shrugging. “I’ve definitely learned a lot, both from you and...before.” The yawning hole inside of his head stung with pain, but he pushed it aside.

He had gotten better with ignoring this final, painful reminder of what had been. He remembered when he had broken his arm during a backpacking trip in high school and how it ached for weeks after; this wasn’t all that different. It just had the additional emotional pain along with the physical.

The loneliness was what refused to go away. He still felt _alone._ He had tried to get rid of his feeling by meeting up with Mabel as much as possible, by going out with Damian when they needed to run errands, even by spending time with Damian at the house, beginning to understand him. Fearing him less.

But he would have to confront it. He hoped for sooner rather than later. Stamp it out fast.

“Are you feeling the _physical_ training kicking in?” Damian asked, sitting on the couch with a soft _thump._

Dipper turned around to frown at him. “Uh, yeah, I think my arms are about to fall off, and there’s a reason I didn’t get out of bed until 3.”

Damian laughed, putting his hand over his mouth to stifle it, but he couldn’t stifle his grin. “You need to learn how to fight, you’ll have to sacrifice some comfort.”

“Yeah, and most of my muscles,” Dipper grumbled, stretching his legs and grimacing. “I feel awful.”

“Here, stop your magic, I’ll show you some stretches.”

Dipper shrugged and the spheres disappeared, and he got to his feet, his knees bent slightly in discomfort. “Okay, if it’ll work better than the six pain pills I’ve taken today.”

“It might.”

Dipper felt like he was in some kind of weird exercise video, a fucking _demon_ in front of him showing him ways to bend his arms or whatever and looking deadly serious throughout the whole thing, like the concept of this wasn’t actually completely ridiculous. It got weirder when Damian sat in front of him and actually helped stretch his leg out, but Damian obviously saw nothing odd about it. And he did feel a little better afterwards, though he could feel Damian’s eyes on him for the rest of the night, even after the demon left.

Later that night, he clambered into bed and sat up straight, closing his eyes and opening his subconscious, folding outward like a box and letting him reach inside, and he fumbled around until he found what he was looking for: his magic, bright sky-blue spheres glowing in the shape of a constellation - _his_ constellation. He drifted around them as they popped and crackled like balls of flame.

The original large sphere had burst into many smaller ones around the time of the split, though Dipper couldn’t remember the specifics. There was a bit of a void surrounding that, but he didn’t know what it was. He assumed it was an after-effect of the split, some little part of his mind ripped out, not needed anymore. His mind was a rich midnight blue peppered with a more royal blue and other tinted colors. Greens and yellows were absent.

Metaphysically, he reached out and touched one of the magic spheres. The second his “finger” grazed the fiery surface, his eyes shot open and his arm shot up and before he knew what he was doing, he had blasted a smoking hole through the wall.

As he stared, he heard footsteps and the door. “What was that?? Are you alright??” Damian asked, his hair in a mess and his voice quick and concerned.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine,” Dipper replied shakily, unable to wrench his eyes away from the hole in the wall. “I was just - I was experimenting, it was an accident.”

Damian visibly calmed. “Good. Just be more careful. I have to call in repairs for _two_ parts of the house now -”

“Okay, the deck thing was definitely you, not me.”

“It was your magic spear -”

“But it was your _counter_ magic spear that hit _my_ magic spear and exploded,” Dipper countered, folding his arms.

Damian, not one for argument, rolled his eyes towards the ceiling and shrugged ambivalently. “Whatever. I’ll get everything fixed soon enough, I suppose.” He yawned. “I’ll be waking you up at 10 tomorrow.”

“Okay.” Dipper paused. “G’night.”

“Good night.” Damian turned with an almost-flourish and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Not as frazzled, Dipper tried to sink back into his subconscious again. _Tried._ He found his way blocked by some great floating mass of _black,_ something he hadn’t seen before. No matter how much he pushed and shoved at it, it refused to budge.

Sighing loudly, he opened his eyes, rubbed them, and resigned himself to sleeping. His suspicions surrounding Damian crept back into his head as he pulled the blankets over his head and stared at the east wall; could the demon have planted obstacles in his head, preventing his magic from reaching its full potential? Keeping him from becoming a threat? Purposefully blocking out parts of himself?

 _But how could he have done that?_ Dipper asked himself. While it was true that Damian seemed to have no sense of personal space and tended to be rather touchy when working with Dipper, he had never touched his head or gotten into his mind since he had first attempted to get rid of Dipper’s constant pain. Since then, he had only rested his hands on Dipper’s shoulder, arm, hand, or leg; Dipper reminded himself to tell Damian that leg-touching was _weird,_ as apparently he hadn’t learned that in his 600 years of having a corporeal form.

He shook off his concerns bit by bit until sleep took him, the last of them melting away into his dreams, preparing to reform when they were needed again.

 

The day was sweltering hot, probably nearing 100 degrees, and all Dipper wanted to do was sit in the backyard pool all day, but _no,_ Damian had insisted on the mock duel.

So they stood shirtless in the backyard flinging various forms of magic at each other, manipulating the ground and the air around them, and fighting physically, Dipper using Damian’s height and size to his advantage and actually forcing him to the ground at one point. With a cut on his forehead bleeding and dirt smudged across his neck and jaw, Damian just smiled up at him, his eyes shining in Dipper’s shadow. “You’ve come so far,” he said appraisingly, and Dipper couldn’t help the shiver of pride that shook his spine, couldn’t help his own smile. He also couldn’t help noticing that Damian had his _nipples_ pierced, two pairs of silver studs that he did his best not to stare at.

But that moment didn’t last much longer, Damian shoving Dipper off and getting back to his feet, brushing some dirt off of his shorts and pushing hair out of his eyes. “Again,” he said, and the magic burst to life.

It got fast and furious, the ground rumbling beneath their feet and moving like waves of water, magic crackling and spitting in midair, but Dipper knew that even in this mess, Damian was holding back. He was chewing at his lip and his dark eyebrows were furrowed sharply as he struggled to restrain his powers, his abilities. His physical strength was almost as impressive as his magic; he could pick up heavier objects without complaint and even held _Dipper_ in his arms, picking him up off the ground after a particularly intense attack.

But Dipper could still identify his weaknesses, and these became more and more apparent as the duel wore on. He was bigger and heavier, he favored certain attacks above others, he relied on his black hands to do a lot of the fighting for him, and he _really_ didn’t like getting dirty.

Dipper was able to put some of his new skills to work. With the flick of his wrist, he could pull the ground into the air, turning the relatively smooth surface of the backyard into a precarious ocean of dirt and grass. He could create temporary weapons from magic, or summon elements to do his work for him, gusts of wind or sudden explosions of water from small hidden reservoirs. He was particularly proud, and able to ignore the sting in his mind, when white-blue flames burst from his extended hands and raced up his arm, crackling viciously but leaving Dipper’s skin completely intact. He swore he saw alarm flare in Damian’s eyes at this sight, but it was replaced with a cool surprise moments later, and he dismissed it as mere shock.

They called it off when the air had reached an unbearable temperature and they were thoroughly beaten and bruised and mentally and physically exhausted, shuffling inside the air-conditioned house and collapsing unceremoniously on the floor.

“Truce?” Dipper asked weakly, minutes later when they had recovered their breath and were no longer about to pass out from heat stroke.

Damian laughed, his chest and stomach moving. “Truce. You did really well, I’m very impressed. You must have been practicing on your own time quite a bit.”

Dipper shrugged modestly. “I mean, sometimes, if I felt like I could stand it. It’s difficult. My mind’s still a little, er, handicapped.”

“Understandable.”

They laid there in silence for a few minutes in which Dipper was able to replay some of their battle in his mind. He picked up on his own discrepancies, places where he needed to improve. He definitely needed to work out more with his leg muscles, as they were screaming after all of that running and darting and jumping around. His defensive magic also needed work; he was unable to maintain a steady shield for more than a few seconds, which was absolutely necessary in the demon fight that was coming.

He shook that out of his head. No need to expose himself to that pain right now.

Eventually, with a sound of complaint, Damian got into a sitting position and then managed to stand up, stretching and cracking his back. “You want something to drink?”

“Sure.”

They ended up sitting on the couch watching old Law & Order episodes and drinking cocktails, courtesy of Damian’s mixology skills and some recipes found online. They showered one after the other but still remained shirtless, considering it was still hovering around 100 degrees outside and a good 75-80 degrees inside; Damian didn’t like turning on the AC too high.

It took a few hours of TV and alcohol before Dipper finally blurted out, “When’d you get those piercings?”

Damian glanced over at him in surprise, then looked down. “These? A few years ago. I needed a change, and I like piercings. I like tattoos, too, but I feel like this one is enough.” He reached behind him and tapped the black symbols tattooed on the back of his neck.

Dipper hesitated before asking, “Can I see it?”

Damian looked at him searchingly for a few seconds, then nodded and turned slightly so it was visible. The symbols were completely unrecognizable, but they were still cool, dark intricate swoops and curls and lines that spelled out Damian’s true name sitting under the short, shaved hairs at the nape of his neck.

Damian nodded at Dipper. “You have a tattoo, I saw it while we were sparring.”

Dipper automatically reached for the pine tree on his hip. “Oh, yeah, I got this in college.”

“Why a pine tree?”

Dipper shifted. “Y’know, my last name, that hat I wore for like seven years, all that.” He frowned at Damian. “He asked me the same question.”

Damian shrugged. “It raises the question.”

“Yeah, well, my friend Nate got an eagle across his chest, be grateful it’s not that.”

Damian huffed a laugh, turning back to the TV. “You’re probably more grateful than I am.”

“True,” Dipper agreed. “I can’t even imagine that.”

Damian raised the remote and clicked to the next episode. “So...pardon the intrusion, but are you mentally able enough to talk about him?”

Dipper nodded slowly. “I...I think so. Just keep it simple. I don’t want to think too hard.”

“Do you remember what his true name is?”

“Well, I never heard it, but I saw it. I don’t remember what it is, though. The photo of it was on Mabel’s phone, but she might have deleted it after...what happened in Newport. You know, you would have seemed much less threatening if you hadn’t _spied_ on me and appeared in my dreams so much,” Dipper accused Damian, a tiny spark of fear flaring inside of him at the assertion.

Damian conceded, to his surprise. “You’re right. It was wrong of me to use your mind as insight into the way _he_ lived. But it was only because I couldn’t get into _his_ head. If I had been able to, rest assured, I would have used him.”

“Hm. Still. What about my dreams?”

Damian frowned. “How did I appear in your dreams?” he asked curiously.

Dipper shrugged, not really wanting to pull those images from his head. They were much more terrifying than the weirdly _human_ Damian in front of him. “I ‘unno, I mean, you were all...intimidating, scary, your hand thingies would chase me and you would try to capture me -”

“ _Capture_ you? Those weren’t the dreams I intended you to have,” said Damian slowly, his frown deepening on his face. “I suppose...distance...circuits might’ve scrambled -”

“Could he have interfered with incoming dreams?” Dipper interrupted Damian, a sickly feeling of dread rising from his stomach up to his chest. “Could he have - could he have changed them? To make you more threatening?”

“It’s possible, but very challenging. Though he does seem like he would be up for it,” Damian mused, his expression dark. “He didn’t want you speaking to me...he considered me a threat.”

“Well, obviously. He got pretty beat up in Newport. Which reminds me - do you guys heal, like, abnormally quickly?” Dipper asked. “Because whenever he got hurt, he was like, fine by the next day.”

Damian nodded. “Because of our own immortality, our physical forms are much more durable. For example, he broke my nose, but it’s obviously fine right now.” He tapped it with a finger. “So fights between demon-humans _have_ to be fast and furious if we want to get anywhere.”

“Huh.”

They sat in silence for a while, just watching TV and drinking. Dipper finished his mint margarita and went to pour himself another. Damian was nursing his mojito.

Eventually the sun went down and the heat eased up and Dipper went outside by himself, hovering between tipsy and drunk and enjoying the break from mental pain. He watched the last of the sun’s rays die behind the trees and ventured into his head, treading lightly between colored spots, looking for good memories.

Brief flashes of high school, some of his adventures with his friends, both dull and exciting. Then college, ridiculous things he would never forget. He smiled dozily and lapsed into a sleep-like state as he immersed himself in better times, in parties and shitty karaoke and video games and his friends’ faces.

It was as he approached the present that some black spots appeared, like ink had been spilled on his memories. Some freckles scattered throughout May and parts of June, bigger ones as the summer proceeded, and then a black spot so large it covered nearly everything. He wasn’t even able to place a certain time or date for when these spots appeared; they contained no information and covered the information that was there.

He opened his eyes, the growing darkness of the world not much of a change from the calm void of his personal headspace, and thought hard about these black spots. Was something wrong with his recollections? Was it an after-effect of the shared headspace being forcibly ripped out of his mind? He reminded himself to ask Damian later.

He watched the stars rise in the sky and picked out his constellation, watching the stars flicker and glow, a distant copy of the balls of magic fire in his mind.

_The cosmos is also within us. We are made of star stuff. We are a way for the cosmos to know itself._

Dipper didn’t want to wonder where _he_ was at that moment, didn’t want to wonder whether he was looking up at the sky and thinking about what he’d lost.

Dipper grimaced. It didn’t matter. It didn’t _matter_ where Bill was or what he was doing - what mattered was that he was out of his life. And soon, he would be out of his life _forever._

Maybe his 12 year old self wouldn’t be as disappointed in him as he’d initially thought.

Stars still in his eyes, his head heavy with hurt, Dipper unsteadily got to his feet about an hour later and stumbled inside.

 

Not too many miles away, on a patch of abandoned property off a dirt road, a man stood above a grassless area. He tried to kick off the red dust on his otherwise pristine shoes to no avail, and curled his lip. He _hated_ getting dirty.

On the grassless area, a near-perfect circle had been carved into the ground, stretching approximately six feet in diameter. A smaller one was carved about seven inches inside, and an even smaller further inside spanning roughly three feet. The circles were undecorated with any further symbols or marks.

The man tapped the circle with the long stick he held in his hand and said to himself, “Now for the _field research.”_

He dropped the stick onto the ground and turned to leave, some of the dust blowing off his shoes as a wind rushed in from the east. He stood at the end of the road and looked up at the sky for a moment, his face twisted in terrible anguish, then disappeared, leaving only his shoe prints in the red earth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 25 will be up on saturday night.
> 
> thank you all so much for your support even with the unexpected hiatus. it's hard to write while fighting crippling existentialist depression and school. 968 kudos tho?? holy shit. i love you all, and appreciate all of your kind words.
> 
> EDIT: forgot to include this lovely fanart!  
> by [phaisty](http://phaisty.tumblr.com/post/137462990262), [drossna](http://drossna.tumblr.com/post/140723007374), [camilicous](http://camilicous.tumblr.com/post/137274554250/terrible-doodle-of-my-newfound-addiction-all), and [skeletnfuckr](http://skeletnfuckr.tumblr.com/post/140882462712/damian-from-smolskeys-gravity-falls-fic) (aka carrie anne my bff). thank you!!


	26. Chapter Twenty-Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this is a little late, i was out fabric shopping because i have to finish my costumes for sakura-con next weekend!! i'm so excited. this also means i won't be updating again until next tuesday.
> 
> and thank you all so much for 1000 kudos!!! i literally almost cried when i saw it, this is actually so amazing. i'll probably write a big sappy post on tumblr expressing all of my dumb gay emotions, but for now, just know that i appreciate every single one of you who left kudos on this fic. thank you so so so much. ❤️ ❤️

A hazy, black-and-gray landscape emerged from a void, blurry but eventually coming into focus. Someone was saying something, marching around, peering into the “camera.”

“Hello? _Hello?_ Is this working? _Ugh,_ figures I’m out of practice. _Hello!..._ ah, there we go.”

Bill looked closely into Damian’s dreaming eye. “I _hope_ you can see me. And hear me. This is important, _Blackwood,_ so listen up.”

He stepped back, smoothing down the front of his shirt, and said matter-of-factly, “I’m going to kill you. I’m going to rip you right out of that pretty human body, and I’m going to send you back to our dimension where you can sit back for a few millennia and think about what you’ve done.”

He cleared his throat. “While you do have my human, that’s true, I’m sure you’ve gloated _a lot_ about that, I don’t _completely_ rely on him. In fact, I hardly relied on him at all. And since our souls are no longer bound together, I don’t depend on him for survival. Really, our division made my situation _better.”_

He grinned broadly, his expression menacing with his heavy dark eyebrows and his slasher smile. “So I hope you’re ready for our _final showdown._ You might not’ve told us how to get rid of _you_ , but I hunted around a bit and discovered those little details myself. _España_ is lovely this time of year, as is _Italia._ I had _no idea_ you had spent time there! It was a great little vacation, very _educational._

“So you may know my true name. Fine! _I_ don’t care. A fat lot of good that’ll do you once I’ve got you where I want you.” Bill folded his arms across his chest. “And because of your grudge, you won’t rest until I’m dead, so you can’t help but come looking for me. Follow your instincts, Blackwood - just know that you’re following them to your grave.”

Bill laughed his oddly high-pitched, manic laugh as he motioned at the “camera” once more. “So have fun with your body and with my human while it lasts, because it’ll all be over soon. As for _when_ everything ends, that’s up to you.” He spread his arms in an inviting gesture. “ _I’m_ ready anytime, old friend. Whenever you’re feeling particularly _daring,_ come find me. Let’s see…” Bill looked around, swiveling on the spot, then jumped slightly and trotted over to a large tree off the side of a paved road. With a flick of his hand and a loud _hiss,_ a triangle was inscribed deep into the bark, big enough to be seen from a vehicle.

“There. I’m only a few miles out of Gravity Falls, just hop on the I-97 and go north a ways, you’ll find it soon enough. So!” Bill clapped his hands. “I’m prepared, and I certainly hope you are! If you’re not, I’m willing to wait, I’m a patient guy, but your grudge clock is ticking, Blackwood!” Bill tapped his wrist. “I can only imagine how it must feel to be _so close_ to the object of your hatred and yet unable to destroy it.”

Bill scratched his head. “Is that everything…? I think it is. Well, there we go, then! See you soon!” he sang, his eyes glittering, and the dream went black.

  


Damian woke up snarling, his fingernails digging into the palms of his hands. “ _Cipher!”_ he spat into the darkness of his room, as if the other demon could hear him.

But he knew he had to control his fury, to channel it into productivity. Going wild with anger was for _chaos_ demons like Bill, not his own house. He had more self-control than that.

He checked the time; 9:14. Good, it wasn’t some ungodly hour of the morning.

He sat up in bed, pushed stray hairs out of his face, and began to develop a plan.

  


Dipper, however, didn’t stir until roughly 12:30, which was typical. He woke slowly, yawning a lot and rolling over to keep the sun out of his eyes until he had to face the inevitable daylight.

After another fifteen minutes, he resentfully struggled into a sitting position and then slid out of bed, then stumbled to the dresser to pick out clothes for the day. As far as he knew, they weren’t sparring that day - a week had gone by since their first mock duel, and they’d had a few since then, but they were both pretty sore from the most recent fight - so he hoped to go out for at least a few hours. He perked up at the idea that maybe he could get Damian to take them to dinner somewhere. He hadn’t eaten at a restaurant in ages.

He pulled on an old X-Files t-shirt and khaki shorts and headed out to the kitchen. Damian was nowhere to be found, so he set to work preparing breakfast - well, lunch - for himself.

He was just turning off the stove and scooping eggs onto a plate when Damian appeared from the hallway. His expression was darker than Dipper had seen it in quite a while, and the permanent shadows under his eyes were more obvious than usual.

“Morning,” said Dipper cautiously, taking in Damian’s appearance.

At the sound of Dipper’s voice, Damian seemed to relax slightly. He approached the kitchen island and leaned on it. “Good morning. When you’re done eating, we need to talk.”

Dipper shrugged and took his plate in his hand along with a glass of juice. “Talk to me while I’m eating.”

So Damian sat across from him at the dinner table, folding his hands on top of the glass and looking more stone-cold serious than ever, his indigo eyes flashing purple.

“What’s going on?” Dipper asked, a little alarmed at this dramatic change in character. For the last two weeks or so, he had been amiable at best, mysterious at worst. This felt more like the demon he had faced off with in Austin, or the demon he had shied away from in Newport, and it frightened him.

“I know where Bill is,” Damian said bluntly, grimacing. “He sent me a dream last night.”

Dipper stared at him, his fork falling from his hand and hitting the plate with a clatter. “ _What?_ So, what, he - he told you where he is?”

“Essentially, yes. And he invited me to fight him. _Taunted_ me.”

“Sounds like Bill,” Dipper remarked dryly, stabbing a piece of egg. “So, what, do you want to fight him?”

“It’s not a question as to if I _want_ to fight him, Mason. I _need_ to fight him. I am fueled by my grudge, remember?” Damian tapped the side of his head. “All of my instincts and base emotions compel me to seek him out and destroy him.”

“So you’re going to?” Dipper asked, his heart stuttering at the possibility of seeing Bill again, this time on the other side. Wiping that self-righteous smirk off his face for the last time. He took a deep breath and exhaled. “Because I’ll come with you.”

Damian looked at him in surprise. “You will? You would be willing to do that?”

Dipper nodded purposefully. “It’s fitting. I’m the one who brought him here, I should...I should be the one sending him out. Or at least help you with it.”

“How poetic. Well, if you think you’re up to the task, I certainly would welcome the help,” said Damian carefully, nodding. “What remains of the soul bond in both of your heads is what complicates matters. You see, even after the split, you’ll be drawn to each other. When the time comes, will you really be able to kill his human form and force him back into his dimension?” Damian asked, one eyebrow quirking up,

Dipper met his gaze steadily. “I’ll do my best.”

Damian’s face relaxed into a demure smile. “Then I suppose we’ll have to cram in some more training.”

“ _Ugh,_ and I wanted to go out tonight,” Dipper complained with his mouth half-full.

“Go _out_ tonight? What did you have planned?” Damian asked, leaning back in his chair.

Dipper shifted in his seat. “I dunno, we could go get dinner somewhere. I know there’s not a lot of options here, but there’s some stuff in Bend -”

“I’ll do you one better,” said Damian, interrupting him. “Why don’t we go to Salem?”

“ _Salem??_ That’s like a three hour drive away, that’d be dumb -”

“Not if we teleport,” Damian pointed out, some smugness creeping into his expression. “Have you never done that?”

“Uh, no? I didn’t think I could.”

“Well, no, purely mortal beings can’t, but if you were to hold my hand or whatever, you would teleport with me somewhere. I should warn you, it’s not the most pleasant of experiences for mortals,” Damian added. “So it’s up to you, but I feel like we’ll have more variety there.”

“Well, hell, if we’re teleporting, we could go all the way to Portland -”

“Teleporting has its limits, Mason,” Damian interrupted him yet again. “There’s a certain _radius._ We wouldn’t be able to teleport right into Salem, but we could teleport to somewhere close by and then go into town.”

“Oh. Uh. Okay, I mean, whatever works,” Dipper mumbled, scratching his head in bewilderment. There was still so much he didn’t know.

“Great, well, I can make reservations. If we do a fake duel in a few hours, we should be able to shower up and get changed to go out in time for dinner, hm? Do some stretches,” Damian advised, getting up out of the chair and heading for his room. “We’ll be going at it _hard_.”

“I just finished _eating,”_ Dipper grumbled, but resigned himself to stretching in front of the TV for a while before he would fight Damian again.

He was getting very used to Damian’s presence. Almost _too_ used to it.

Dipper propped up his head on his chin and frowned. _This doesn’t feel very_ real, _does it? Is this all actually happening? Did he become part of my life this quickly?_

He shook his head; surely there was no way for one demon - or two? - to create such an illusion. Though, they were dream demons, he reminded himself with a chill. _They’re probably good with creating fake worlds._

But he refused to let this paranoia get the best of him. It had plagued him throughout adolescence and adulthood, and quite frankly, he was sick of how irrational it was.

So he turned the TV on, going to Netflix and selecting the episode of Law & Order they had left off on the night before; watching crime shows until the wee hours of the morning while drinking cocktails was becoming their little tradition. Last night, Dipper had fallen asleep on Damian’s shoulder for a good five minutes before jerking awake and hurriedly excusing himself to his room, where he collapsed due to embarrassment and exhaustion. Of course, Damian didn’t care. He had just laughed as he went to his own room.

But he wasn’t laughing now. Dipper bent down to touch his toes - or at least _try_ to touch his toes - and frowned at the darkness in Damian’s eyes. It was that old bloodlust, tamed by distance, but still roaring away inside of him. He, too, was still a demon.

After hanging for a few seconds, Dipper stood up straight once again and reached high into the air, linking his hands together and pushing his shoulders out, keeping his eyes on the TV. Unfortunately, even the show couldn’t distract him from the reality of what he offered to do, and it sunk into his head slowly as he kept stretching.

He was going to help _kill Bill._

Well, send him back into his dimension. But it was basically killing him. It was killing a _person._ Dipper shuddered.

He had never seen a person die. He’d seen dead people and undead people, but never the actual act. And now, he was sure of it, he would watch Bill die.

_Would it really set me free?_ Dipper wondered wearily, twisting his torso from side to side while holding 10-pound weights in his hands that he had grabbed off the floor. _Or would he keep trying to talk to me through the mindscape or whatever? Would he keep getting into my head?_

Damian returned from his room looking more casual in gray sweatpants and a deep blue v-neck shirt. It was barely afternoon, but Dipper heard the hiss of a beer bottle cap from the kitchen, and then Damian joined him, sitting on the couch and taking a swig.

“You’re drinking already?” Dipper asked pointedly. “I thought we were gonna fight in like, 20 minutes or something.”

Damian waved his hand. “Give it an hour. Let your breakfast settle.”

Dipper got onto the floor and set down the weights, stretching out one leg and reaching for it, his other leg tucked underneath him. “So are you putting some kind of _plan_ together?”

Damian nodded. “In theory, it’s solid and simple. We get to him, we attack him, two versus one, until he’s close to death, then we draw his summoning circle, recite his name and summons backwards, and he’s gone without putting up too much of a fuss.” He huffed. “ _However,_ demon battles are highly unpredictable, and chaos demons are _ridiculous.”_ He glanced at Dipper, expressionless. “Which is why I don’t know if I want you there.”

“But I’ve improved a lot!” Dipper protested. “I mean, I beat _you_ the other day. I know you weren’t, y’know, doing _everything,_ but still, that was good, right?”

“It was fantastic, really, but I’m still concerned for your safety,” said Damian. “Besides, do you really _want_ to be there? You don’t have to force this strength, Mason. If your head hasn’t healed yet, let it heal.”

Dipper shook his head. “No, seriously, it’s fine. I mean, this is what you’ve been training me for, right? That’s the whole reason for all this weight-lifting and magic practice and stuff. It’s so I can fight Bill with you.” There was a sting when he said Bill’s name, but he forced it down. “Why else would you be teaching me all of this?”

Damian hesitated, then nodded in his direction. “Fair enough. That is why I’ve been training you. I think it would give you great _satisfaction,_ Mason, in the long run if not in the immediate future. And, we could kill two birds with one stone - I destroy my enemy, and you destroy yours. Victories all around.”

“Plus, I don’t know how I could just sit here and wait to find out if you killed him or not,” Dipper admitted. “What would I even do?”

“So you’re determined to do it?” Damian asked, taking another long drink of beer.

Dipper paused, then nodded fiercely. “Yes. I’m gonna do it.”

Damian set his drink down and cracked his knuckles. “Then we have a lot of practice and review to go over if we want to go out tonight.”

  


They were able to teleport into the outskirts of Salem, Oregon at around 6:30. Their reservation was at 7, and according to Damian’s phone, they didn’t have too far to walk. Salem wasn’t very large.

Dipper felt mildly uncomfortable out with Damian, though he wasn’t sure why. They’d gone out plenty of times before, getting food or visiting Mabel or going to the hardware store to fix some broken object or another, but that was without this ominous threat hanging over their heads, he supposed.

It didn’t help that Damian walked very close to him as they headed further into the city, looking dark and cautious and even _protective._

But not possessive.

So Dipper didn’t complain too much.

They were just on time for their reservations, and Damian’s solemn face eased into a pleasant smile as he addressed the young woman who directed them to their table and to the waiter who asked them about drinks. Damian spent a good five minutes choosing between red wines. Dipper just said that he trusted his judgement.

“When are we going to...meet Bill?” Dipper asked quietly after the waiter had left. “Tomorrow?”

Damian pursed his lips, thinking. “As long as we aren’t too sore tomorrow,” he said wryly, “then yes, I think so. The sooner, the better.”

“So we don’t worry too much about it?”

Damian bared his sharp teeth, which thankfully went unnoticed in the dimly lit room. “So I can settle this grudge as soon as possible,” he growled. “I’ve waited nearly two thousand _years_ for this, and I’m sick of waiting.”

Dipper shifted in his seat. “Right.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “So, uh...what time period haven’t we talked about?”

Damian laughed, his fury gone. “Last I remember, we were talking about the Cold War.”

“Yeah, yeah, you mentioned that you went to Russia during that time?” Dipper prompted, leaning forward. While he had never been much of a history buff, there was a vast difference between reading about an event and hearing an account from someone who was _there._

“Yes, I had gone undercover as a tourist - hang on.” The waiter was back with the wine. After Damian’s approval, he uncorked it and left it sitting on the table to “let the tannins mellow,” whatever the hell that meant. They both remembered that they had to decide on dinner, and decided to resume the topic after ordering.

Because Damian had a lot of money - Dipper added _rich_ under his list of _attributes all demon-humans had -_ they ordered appetizers along with entrées.

They were laughing and chatting aimlessly about Russia and Germany and old politicians and the like when Dipper noticed something odd.

He first passed it off on the wine. Maybe because he had worked out so much earlier, he had a lower alcohol tolerance than usual. Or maybe the wine was just very powerful. Either way, he was positive that it was only the wine’s influence. So he set his glass aside.

“Done drinking already? Is it too strong?” Damian asked. “Or do you not like it? I can get another bottle -”

“No, it tastes fine, I just, er, I think it has a higher alcohol content than I’m used to,” Dipper replied, looking directly at Damian.

Damian frowned at him. “How much have you had? Even if this wine had more alcohol in it, it shouldn’t be affecting you unless you’ve had at least a glass.”

Dipper shrugged helplessly. “I think I had a glass. Or...half a glass.” His heart had jumped at the sight of what he was determined to pass off as a drunken hallucination. But it was nearly impossible to blame it on the wine.

Damian stifled a laugh. “Don’t tell me you’re drunk _already._ Am I _that_ boring?” he teased.

“No, I’m - I’m serious, Damian, there’s - it’s - I don’t know what it is, but - I’m seeing - _them_ ,” Dipper managed to say, starting to shake in fear. “Everywhere. They’re in everything, I -”

“Wait, calm down,” Damian interrupted him, his slow, deep voice somewhat easing Dipper out of his panic. “What are you seeing?”

Dipper’s eyes flickered all around the room, to the golden lines in the painting on the wall to those in the rock western wall to those in the grooves of a wooden table to the pattern of a rug on the floor to a woman’s earrings to a man’s tie -

Dipper swallowed. “T-there’s triangles _everywhere.”_

Damian’s eyes widened in shock momentarily and he tried to inconspicuously look around. “I...I’m not seeing anything, Mason -”

“No, I’m telling you, they - ! T-they’re all gold, gold outlines, and I can see them in _everything,_ this _can’t_ be a coincidence, Damian -”

“It’s not,” Damian replied steadily, despite the anger flashing in his eyes. “This is hardly a coincidence. He’s _beckoning_ us. I have no idea _how_ he’s doing it, it’s some kind of image projection, but he wants us to meet him.”

Dipper’s breathing was returning to normal. “Well, we can’t do it _now -”_

Damian bristled like an animal, his teeth bared in a snarl once again. “What if he moved, and he’s _close by,_ and that’s how he’s doing this, he might be _here -”_

“ _Damian,”_ said Dipper fiercely but quietly, reaching for Damian’s fists as they sat curled tight on the table. “Even if he is, we _can’t cause a scene._ He’s - he’s probably deliberately trying to incite something. Look, if we charge into it spontaneously, we might fuck something up. _Tomorrow.”_

As his eyes met Damian’s, indigo rimmed with purple fire, he knew he’d had too much experience with trying to calm demons down. On the plus side, it helped ease his own panic, clutching Damian’s warm hand and looking at him.

It took another minute, but Damian was able to unclench his fists and sit up straight again, his breathing returning to normal. “Thank you, Mason,” he said stiffly, almost _embarrassed._

Dipper just nodded and jerked his hand away. “I’ve done it before,” he said nonchalantly. “It’s fine.” He cast an experimental look around the room and found that the glowing golden triangle outlines had disappeared. “And the images are gone.”

“That’s good, if nothing else.” Damian stabbed a piece of a’hi tuna with a fork and ate it, still obviously brooding.

Dipper decided that, on the contrary to his earlier theory, he should be drinking _more_ wine.

  


“Ah! Hello again,” said Bill cheerfully, leaning against a tree with his hands behind his head. “I figured that _first_ dream would send you running, but I _forgot,_ you’re not as _impulsive_ as I am. Boo. Well, either way, I hope you enjoyed my little _visit.”_ He grinned broadly. “I’m afraid that I didn’t actually know _where_ my marks would end up, just that they would happen to find you, and therefore, my human. But because they didn’t take long to reach you, I know you’re nearby, which is reassuring.”

He stood up and stretched, standing on his tiptoes and reaching for the sky. “So...maybe I’ll see you tomorrow? I hope so. I may be patient, but I also get bored easily.” He rolled his head and cracked his neck, leaving his head at an odd angle. “So _please,_ for both of our sakes, get your act together and come fight me. I miss being the only demon in the west. Do I have to _taunt_ you more to get you to come after me sooner?”

He rose slightly in the air, hovering, then sat with one leg crossed over the other. “That’s really all I have to say. Oh - say hello to Pine Tree for me, and tell him I miss him. We had so much _fun_ together.”

He ran a hand through his hair; he was styling it differently, most of his hair pushed off to one side and sticking slightly into the air. His dark roots still stood out stark against the bright blonde. “Good night and sleep well, Blackwood.” He laughed, baring his teeth. “Don’t let the bedbugs bite.”

  


This time, Bill’s dream didn’t force Damian awake, but drifted through his subconscious for a few more hours along with other, more mundane dreams. Bill’s cackling laugh and glowing yellow eyes weaved in and out of them, never quite disappearing, only fading temporarily. So when he finally woke up, rubbing sleep out of his eyes, that laughter still echoed in his head.

“Damn,” he growled quietly, and looked up and outside. A storm was brewing - how appropriate. It was one of the dark, dry, summer thunderstorms that brought an eerie feeling to the air and roiling purple clouds to the sky. It rumbled in the distance now, but would approach them soon enough.

Dipper had awoken a few hours earlier, too nervous to sleep. He took some pain pills to alleviate the soreness from yesterday, then made coffee and slammed back the whole pot to keep himself awake and alert into the afternoon and evening, as they had decided to make their move during the dusk. The later they went, the less conspicuous the fight would be. The fewer people to come anywhere close, the better.

Throughout the day, the two men either sat in silence or went over their plans for the hundredth time. Dipper sat outside on the deck with balls of glowing magic in his hands, or fire covering his arms, or absentmindedly manipulating the surface of the Earth. He was tempted to try some of the spatial manipulation he had only just mastered, but didn’t want to tire himself out.

They shared another pot of coffee and watched TV to try to distract themselves, but Dipper jumped at even the slightest noise and Damian was practically glowing with fury. The evening couldn’t come fast enough.

Dipper called Mabel at around 6:30. “Hey, this a good time?” he asked.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re good! What’s going on?” she asked. “Everything okay?”

Dipper hesitated. “It’s...we’re…” He sighed heavily. “No. Not exactly.”

“Why, what’s - what’s happened?” Mabel asked, sounding nervous.

“Damian’s going to go fight Bill tonight, and he’s taking me with him -”

“He’s taking you _with him??_ Why??” Mabel demanded. “It’s a _demon fight,_ anything could happen!”

“I’ve been training really hard for the last two weeks, I’m really good with magic now, Mabes. And - I think I’m supposed to do this,” Dipper said grimly. “I brought this problem into our lives, and I’m going to get rid of it.”

“You weren’t the one who brought him here, _Elliott_ did. And even before that, you weren’t the one who got him involved with us,” said Mabel, almost despondent. “Look, I know I can’t make you _not_ go, but...just be careful, Dipper, _please._ ”

“I will! I’m gonna be just fine,” he promised, though he wasn’t sure how true that was. “Everything’s gonna go back to normal soon. I can go home, and we can live normal lives again.”

“I know, I know, I just - I can’t lose you.”

“You’re not going to. I swear, Mabel, I’m not gonna die.”

“I trust you,” she said. “I know we’ve been in - in similar situations, I just - I wish I could help. I _hate_ being this _useless.”_

“You’re not useless,” said Dipper firmly. “You’re far from useless. And I’m sorry you were left in the dark for so much of this, I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you enough about - about the soul bond, and that whole thing, and our weird relationship...it was just so fucked up. I shouldn’t have kept that from you.”

“Apology accepted,” she replied with a little laugh. “It’s okay, Dip, I understand why you didn’t want to tell me all that. But you...you probably need to get ready.”

“We’ll talk more when this is over,” he said with finality. “We _will.”_

“Yeah, we will,” she agreed, her voice steadier. “We will. Good luck, bro.”

“Thanks. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Dipper clicked the end call button and shoved his phone in his pocket. “Damian?” he called. “Are we heading out?”

“Soon,” Damian replied, coming out of his room. “Do you feel prepared?”

“Yes.” Dipper nodded. “I do.” He bit his lip. “I’m...nervous, but I’m ready.”

“Then we’ll teleport out in 20 minutes.”

  


Coughing and gasping for air, Dipper collapsed onto the side of the road as Damian stood above him.

Damian reached down to help him up. “Sorry. Shorter teleportations are more difficult to adjust to, you alright?”

“Fine,” Dipper replied, punching at his chest and inhaling deeply. “I’m good. Let's do this,” he said with false bravado.

With a small smile on his face, Damian turned to the tree with the triangle inscribed deep into it. “It's down a road not far from here.”

They found the dirt road after about five minutes of walking and getting odd looks from drivers and passengers on the highway. It started in a treeless area, then curved into a brush thicket.

Dipper’s heart pounded louder and faster with every footstep he left in the red dirt, and he chewed on his lip so hard it split. He didn’t want to see Bill again. He didn’t want to have to look into the eyes that had seen him in so many situations he wanted to wipe completely from his memory. He never wanted to see his smug expression again, hear his mocking voice or his manic laughter - it was too much.

He supposed there was some comfort in fighting him, defeating him, _finally_ beating with his own hands the enemy that had plagued him and his family for three generations. He was still risking his life, but when _wasn’t_ he risking his life, he asked himself rather dryly. His motivation had always been the same thing: his family. Mabel’s worried face flashed before his eyes; he had to do it for her.

They emerged from the thicket and Dipper stopped short, his heart nearly stopping, because he was _still_ hallucinating, Mabel _couldn’t_ be standing there next to Bill with his hand on her shoulder -

He blinked and rubbed his eyes furiously as Damian snarled. With the foul taste of horror in his mouth, he knew it wasn’t a hallucination when Damian said, “Taking hostages? That’s pretty lowbrow, Cipher.”

“ _Mabel!”_ Dipper shouted, his hands balled into fists, terror and fury mingling into a new emotion boiling inside his chest and racing through his veins.

She stared at him with desperation in her face, and yelled, “Dipper, wake up!”

Blood was pounding in his ears and he barely heard what she said. He had eyes only for the demon that had _ruined his life_ and had _stolen his sister,_ was fucking holding her hostage, had her life in his hands -

“Bill!” he snarled almost as viciously as Damian. “Let her go!”

“Wake up, Dipper, wake up!” Mabel shouted again, and he heard her this time, looking at her with white-hot anger twitching in his fingers, he could feel magical energy gathering in his palms, about to explode out of him.

Her words reached his ears. “What?” he asked dumbly, his voice still a low growl.

“Pine Tree, wake up!” Bill called, frowning and looking almost _scared._

“Wake up, Dipper!” Mabel cried, gasping and looking close to tears as his hands burst into flame.

And then Dipper woke up.

A strangled noise tore from the back of his throat and he sunk to his knees, holding his head in his hands and grabbing onto his hair, baring his teeth in a grimace of pain, because his mind was doing _something, something something -_

Something like a saw attacked his brain, the blade screeching against the steel of some impenetrable deadbolts he couldn’t open, hacking away at them until the metal finally collapsed. Bleach pooled in the darkness of his memories and poured down into the vast pits of his subconscious, tearing the black spots away and cleaning them, revealing what lay beneath them.

And he was _screaming_ in pain as mighty claws tore at the shield around his mind, a shield only noticeable as it was ripped to shreds, pieces falling and disappearing into thin air as the saws continued and the bleach spread to reach every facet of his head, seeping through holes and nooks and crannies and wiping the slate clean.

Finally, _finally, finally_ the pain began to dissipate, bleach evaporating into air and the saws ceasing their movement and the shield finally gone, his mind exposed to the elements once more, his memories restored, his chest still heaving and his limbs shaking.

Dipper struggled to his feet and shook the last of the pain out of his head. Through blurred vision he saw Mabel and Bill with relief written on their faces, Mabel’s rigid shoulders relaxing as she stared at him. There was a different expression on Bill’s face, one that Dipper couldn’t recognize at such a distance.

“What just happened?” Damian demanded. He had taken a few steps away from Dipper as the man convulsed on the ground. “What did you _do_ to him??”

Dipper gathered his words and his breath. “They restored my memories,” he replied, turning to Damian, “memories we temporarily ruined to hide the plan.”

Damian bared his teeth, his expression dark. “What _plan?”_

And Dipper grinned, magic gathering in the palms of his hands once again. “To defeat you. Sorry, Damian, but now it’s _three_ against one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> END OF ACT III ACT 1
> 
> INTERMISSION


	27. Chapter Twenty-Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> INTERMISSION  
> (or, what occurred between Bill's admission of treachery and Dipper's departure.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is very long. i recommend getting a hot drink before sitting down to read this mess.
> 
> if the characters' actions/thoughts during this chapter seem to contradict views I have expressed or they have expressed, there's a very simple answer: people change their minds, and people grow. Change and growth is one of the main themes of this story. (i could go into a complete literary analysis of it, but i digress.) (the main themes are change/growth, desperation, and subconscious love/devotion.)

“You _what??”_ The loud sound of fists being slammed onto a table echoed in the dining room.

Bill winced, making a face and stepping back. “Listen, Star -”

“No, you listen!” There was an anger in Mabel’s face that Bill had never seen before, not even at senior prom. Fury and the pain of betrayal were written in her frown lines and the wrinkles by her eyes. “You’re leaving _right now._ I want you out of this house and I want you out of our _lives,_ you - you _asshole.”_ There was more vitriol in her lone swear word than anything she’d ever said in his presence.

Bill held up his hands. “Alright, alright, look, you have every right to be mad -”

“I have every right to be _furious.”_ Mabel’s hands were still clenched into fists on the table. Despite Mabel being a good six inches shorter than Bill, he still cringed beneath her. “You have 30 seconds to say what you need to say, and then I’m going to _literally_ kick you out the door.”

Bill heaved a sigh and said, “Fine, I will make an _attempt_ to reduce this to a sound bite. Okay. I know that what I did was ‘wrong’ by your human standards or whatever, I know that it was _immoral_ and _evil,_ blah blah blah, but! I still don’t understand because I can’t feel remorse or regret or any of that crap that you two can feel.” He hesitated, looking away and frowning, pursing his lips. “But I _want_ to understand him. He’s too much of a part of my life to not understand him and to let him out of my sight. He’s half of who I am now.”

Her eyebrows knit together, Mabel stared at Bill with incredulous curiosity. “You want to understand human emotions,” she said slowly, “so you can see that what you did was wrong? So that he won't leave you?”

“Yes, exactly. Now, am I going to be literally kicked out of the house, or can we have a conversation? I need your help, Star.” Bill folded his arms. “I can’t exactly ask your brother, so I need you.”

“And why should I help you?” Mabel asked suspiciously, tilting her head up. “I won’t let you use me too.”

“Okay, let me illustrate my train of thought.” Bill flicked his hand and conjured up a figure made of pure light that sat in his palm. It resembled a human being. “So, this is you.” The figure turned a solid red. “And this red represents your _humanity,_ your emotions and compassion and all the things that I lack.” He held up his other hand and created another figure, this one blue with barely a hint of red at the top of the head. “And this is me. 95% demon, 5% human. 4% of that is my physical body, and the remaining one percent is the humanity that I got from being mentally connected to Pine Tree. It transfers naturally over time.”

“Does it go both ways?” Mabel asked, some of her worry lines fading with her interest.

“Somewhat. There’s no, er, _demon-ness_ that gets transferred to your brother, but there are abilities, like, his magic progression is speedier than most ordinary humans, both because it’s in his blood and because of that influence. He’s also gained the ability to manipulate his mindscape, though he doesn’t know about that. So this is just a natural process. _However.”_

The images disappeared and Bill leaned forward again, his hands on the table. “What I want,” he said very clearly, looking directly at Mabel, “is an intentional emotion transfer to make me about 50% mentally human.”

She stared at him in growing surprise. “You _what?_ Wait, wait, wait, back up the crazy train - _you_ want to be _human?”_

“ _Half-_ human,” Bill corrected her hastily, irritated and, Mabel noticed, _embarrassed._ “ _Maybe_ half. Maybe less. Dunno. Hm.” He put his hand over his chin and mused to himself. “Could _start_ with 20 percent and move up, increments of 10 percent until the minimum amount is reached... _eh,_ no, too much work.”

The meaning behind Bill’s intentions was starting to dawn on Mabel, but she didn’t let her guard down. “So you want to experience the feelings that we experience? All the human stuff you always say you don’t want? _Really?_ ”

“ _Most_ of it. Some of it. I don’t _know,_ Star, I just want enough to” - he curled his lip - “feel _remorse._ And then we can move past this whole mess.”

“You know you just _understanding_ what you did wrong isn’t going to fix what you had planned,” Mabel retorted. “You were still going to do it.”

“Right, but if I get remorse, I might regret ever planning it! And since it never even got carried out and _won’t_ ever be carried out -”

Mabel shook her head. “You don’t get it, Bill. You don’t get...betrayal, that’s what it is. You betrayed his trust, and you don’t know how much that _hurts_ somebody. And I knew he was already fragile throughout all of this because of whatever weird crap is going on between you two,” she waved her hand in Bill’s direction, looking vaguely disgusted, “so you just made everything, like, the worst you could possibly make it. It doesn’t _matter_ if you won’t do it now. What matters is that that was your plan from the start, from the minute you made that deal.”

Bill was quiet, frowning with a crease between his dark eyebrows, looking at the grain of the table.

“And, you know - he’s not the only one you hurt with this,” Mabel added bitterly, looking away from him.

Bill sighed. “Okay, so, this doesn’t fix it. But it’s a _start,_ right? It’s something?”

Mabel nodded resignedly. “It’s something.”

“So you’re willing to do it?”

“What, this emotion transfer thingie?”

“Yeah, and I can make it so there’s no response transfer -”

“Are you kidding? Heck _yeah_ I want more magic ability, that sounds _awesome.”_ Mabel grinned brightly. “That’s one of the upsides of this situation.”

Bill shrugged. “Alright, then, this’ll be easy.”

They sat on the couch facing each other, brown and golden eyes meeting, two sets of equal determination.

“This is permanent,” Bill said casually. “In case that wasn’t implied. _Well,_ permanent for the rest of my human lifespan, anyway.”

Mabel raised her eyebrows. “Really? So you’ll be like this for the next, like, 60 years? Feeling emotions and relating to people and all that stuff?”

Bill nodded. “Yep. _Hoo,_ this is gonna be _hell.”_ He made a disgusted face. “I’m going to have to deal with so much new weird stuff, _compassion_ and _empathy,_ gross.”

“Then why even do it?”

“For him,” he said simply.

Mabel hid her smile by ducking her head and letting their foreheads touch. She was immediately immersed in a sort of temporarily invented headspace, drifting around metaphysically in a deep black void.

 _Whoa! What is this??_ she asked, looking in all directions.

She felt Bill’s presence near her own. _Just something I threw together, nothing big. This shouldn’t take too long._ And Mabel abruptly felt something weird, like her mind was _flowing,_ some kind of river in her head. She could sense her own mind-self mingling with Bill’s, which was somewhat alarming.

_What’s happening??_

_Relax, it’s normal, it just means we’re doing a fast transfer. ‘Cause most of it is long-term, the people in question don’t really feel that._

_Oh. Okay._ Mabel sat in discomfort for what felt like _hours,_ water trickling out of her porous mind even as it was poured in. She tried to remember the scientific term for this and failed.

After a while, she could sense Bill’s discomfort, his irritability, as her own emotional ability slowly entered his head. His vexation only grew as the process continued until the temporary headspace was cluttered with profanity and curses that bounced off of Mabel’s presence like tiny stones.

_Shush, Bill, you swear like a sailor._

_Everything fucking_ hurts, _Star, you have_ no _idea what this is like._

As this was true, she didn’t say anything else until the steady flow started to recede, leaving her feeling somewhat lightheaded, Bill still swearing up a storm and in obvious pain. Finally, it ended, and he wrenched his forehead away from hers, severing the connection.

“Son of a _bitch!”_ he swore aloud, clutching his head and grimacing, his teeth bared. His eyes were flashing different colors, blue and gold and red. “This is - there’s so much - _fuck,_ I can’t - I can feel _everything,_ Star, I’m -”

She smiled a little wearily, her own head aching slightly, and said, “You’re a person.”

“ _50 percent_ of a person,” he snarled in reply, still pressing his hands against his temples. “I’ll _never_ be one of you snivelling walking organ factory _meat bags_ \- _son of a fucking bitch,_ this hurts.”

“It was your choice!” Mabel reminded him. “You’re 50 percent - did you call us _organ factories?_ Are you involved in the black market??”

Bill just laughed. _“Hah,_ please.” A second later, he was back to cursing.

“Seriously, are you okay? Do you want pain pills?” Mabel asked after a few more minutes of this.

He managed a nod. “M’ fine.” He took a deep breath and exhaled. “Okay.”

“How do you feel?” Mabel sat back and observed him.

It was like he was a new human again; he was running his hands through his hair and touching his face and his neck and his body, staring at his arms and legs and fingers. “Overwhelmed. Gimme a minute.” He sat back, closing his eyes, and waited, breathing slowly.

Mabel took this opportunity to get herself a drink, and when she came back with a soda, Bill was still sitting there with his hands pressed to his temples.

“How long is it gonna take for you to get used to it?”

“A - a while, there’s just so much - so much I need to take in.” He rubbed his thumbs against his head and made a series of odd, twisted facial expressions. _“Yikes,_ this is some _weird_ stuff.”

Mabel fidgeted, drinking her soda to cover up her awkwardness. “Is there, um, anything I can do?”

He shook his head. “I’m gonna need to just...sit like this for a while. Sit and think.” His seriousness was fading to melancholy, looking almost mournful as he held his face in his hands. Confusion, pain, irritation all rolling around in his head while he began to comprehend his situation.

There was a very long silence that was only interrupted by Mabel drinking. She tried to observe him without making it obvious. His _presence_ felt different, like there was a shift that had taken place. Well, there was. But it was like it was reflected in the physical world. The intensity of his gaze as he stared into space seemed more _organic,_ despite his demonic yellow eyes and cat-like pupils.

“So...can you feel any remorse?” Mabel asked quietly after a while.

Bill shrugged dramatically and coughed. “Maybe, but I can’t _recognize_ it up here.” He rapped his skull. “It’s probably floating around _some_ where in this mess, but it’ll take me some time to figure out what it is. Hm.” He put his face in his hands, his palms squished against his cheeks, looking like a cartoon character with his somber yet ridiculous expression.

Mabel sighed. “Look, even if you’re not capable of feeling remorse for all the crap you’ve done in the last, I ‘unno, ten thousand years, can you at _least_ be able to feel remorse for what you did to us? What you _planned_ to do? How you planned on taking advantage of my brother?” Her expression darkened. “You _haven’t_ been, have you?”

Bill coughed. “That’s really a matter of opinion, I’d ask him, _well,_ I’m _attempting_ to feel remorse. I just...hm.” He resumed staring at the wall.

Hesitantly and brusquely, he said, “What you should understand, Star, if you don’t already, is that _this is who I am.”_ He gestured at himself. “When I first was born - or created, who knows - in a different dimension, there was no _development_ like there is with humans. You _grow up,_ you change and evolve and you’re different people every year of your life. I haven’t changed at all in the last 14 billion years. I’ve always existed like this - I’m genocidal, I’m power-hungry, unfeeling, and _fucking crazy._ Incomprehensible by any human standard. I’m a different species! I’m _out of this world.”_

He laughed, all of his teeth visible and a manic kind of anguish in his eyes. “I wasn’t _supposed_ to evolve and change. I wasn’t supposed to...suddenly have all these new things I need to understand. It’s not in my chemistry. I’m...I’m a piece of the universe, of a _different_ universe, not part of _your_ world. These next 60 years, I’m going to be something that was never supposed to exist, and that’s _killing_ me. I can feel it - I’m tearing myself apart.”

Mabel was silent; she genuinely had no idea what to say. Even when first confronted with the realization that this demon was going to be in her life for a very long time, the gravity of the situation didn’t really hit her at that moment. It sunk in over time, with every morning and every interaction and every tired expression on her brother’s face. Now, she could feel the last of it settle in her head, the final acceptance, with this development and Bill’s _emotion,_ the shadows beneath his eyes and the way his hand tangled in his hair.

She tentatively reached for his other hand as it sat rigid on the coffee table. His arm jerked for an instant before relaxing, and she could feel real human warmth, a heartbeat unlike that which she’d felt before. Like the starlight had receded from his veins and made room for something new. Like the universe _was_ leaving him here, leaving him with her and Dipper and their world to become this new being.

“Do you understand?” she asked quietly. “Do you understand remorse yet?”

He shook his head. “I don’t think so. But I get - I think I get _sadness._ Because I’ve seen it in him for so long, but never really recognized it. But I _understand_ it now. I understand his sadness. His loneliness, his desperation, his...hopelessness? I guess. I understand where that all came from.” He pushed hair back from his face. “I should go talk to him now.”

“No, it’s only been an hour or so, give him time,” said Mabel, standing up. “D’you wanna be alone for a while?”

“That’d probably be best, yeah.”

She nodded at him and left, heading over to the kitchen to get dinner ready. She tried not to watch him, but she couldn’t help it. As much of an enigma as he had been, he was even more so now. Her humanity, her compassion and kindness and love and enthusiasm, in his body, in his _mind?_ It was almost impossible for her to understand.

Bill wasn’t being melodramatic when he said he was tearing himself apart; inside his mind, his demonic self was battling his new humanity, facing off in a duel that forced pain and an unnecessary explosion of emotion into his head. There had to be a _balance._ Bill couldn’t be _this_ human. It wasn’t who he was, wasn’t who he was designed to be, and his true self had to take back his personality as much as it possibly could.

Bill fell over onto the couch, staring at the furnace, trying to block out his hellish headache as he looked inside himself. His own personal headspace blinked in and out and flashed obscenely ugly colors that he hated, despised with all of his horrifically human heart. He didn’t _want_ this. He didn’t want this hideous clash between demon and human. He didn’t want to become one of his playthings, didn’t want to lower himself to their level.

But he did it anyway.

He was able to comprehend Dipper’s despair. He brought back the look in his human’s eyes as he stared at him just earlier the same day, full of dismay and hurt and horror. Knowing that someone he had grown to trust, someone he was bound to in more ways than one, his _soulmate,_ was going to hurt him. For once, Bill didn’t delight in the suffering he had caused; he sought only to understand it.

He resigned himself to an afternoon of quiet thought as Mabel unnecessarily busied herself in the kitchen making an extravagantly large dinner that meant they would be eating leftovers for the next week. Anything, they both knew, was better than rejoining reality and facing the dangers ahead.

 

“I think I understand you.”

His head and heart still heavy, bitterness still on his tongue, Dipper raised his head and turned it ever so slightly. “No, you don’t.” His voice was tired. He had spent the last few hours doing nothing but stewing over Bill’s betrayal, trying to figure out why it had hurt him so much, why he had _allowed_ it to hurt him.

It was because Bill had become half of his life. Dependable, constant, reliant. Or at least he was _supposed_ to be. But he had shattered the purpose of the soul bond when he began plotting to use Dipper to carry out his own destructive plans.

He knew that he was doomed to feel the haunting presence of this betrayal, this sickening disappointment. He knew he was going to suffer.

“Listen, Pine T-”

“Will you call me by my actual fucking _name_ for once?” Dipper demanded, his fury re-awakening as he partially heaved himself up out of bed, still not looking in Bill’s direction. “It’s not that hard.” The rough edges of his new knowledge scraped against his head.

A sigh. “Dipper. Listen, I -”

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

“ _Listen to me._ I want you to look into my head. You can keep your walls up, that’s fine. But I want you to see something.”

A few moments passed before Dipper struggled into a sitting position, glaring at Bill with a kind of weary anger. His expression eased at Bill’s appearance; he had never actually seen him so serious, no hint of a smirk or wild chaos energy bubbling under his calm exterior.

Bill slowly crossed the room and sat on the bed. Dipper noticed the deep bags under his eyes, the untidiness of his hair, and he managed to temporarily shove his fury aside.

“Fine,” he said roughly. “I’ll look into your head.”

Bill set his hands on Dipper’s shoulders - Dipper cringed at the touch - and brought their foreheads together.

In the sudden darkness of their headspace, only soft blips of color daring to stand out, Dipper accepted Bill’s invitation beyond the veil and into his mind. Deadbolts melted away in front of his eyes, pooling into quicksilver, and he was able to move further than ever before, past the Bill Cipher he knew and into something quieter, deeper.

 _We’re in the part of my consciousness that controls emotion,_ Bill said. _I want you to compare this to your own._

And Dipper took a moment to dart back into his own brain, searching for this part of his mind, and found it without much effort.

It was furiously colorful, tie-dyes of sweet greens and loud blues and soft grays and white anger, like their shared headspace intensified. It was his emotional range - typical of the average human, though with a little more fear and sadness than necessary.

Back into Bill’s mind, soaring across boundaries in a single step, Dipper took a reluctant look at this new space.

 _I...I don’t understand,_ he thought blankly. _It’s -_

_\- it’s me._

Bill’s emotional range had _blown up._ Where before there were only a few swaths of color floating around like amoebas in the endless darkness - anger, frustration, desire, obsession, cruelty, humor, etc. - there was now so much _more._ Colors that had stood out on their own were now blending into others, creating new shades between them. Others had popped up seemingly out of nowhere, floating around aimlessly and sometimes colliding with another to spawn yet another new emotion, freshly introduced to the blank slate of Bill’s mind and ready to explore its possibilities.

It was nothing like the messy paint palette of Dipper’s mind, darkness easily showing through breaks in Bill’s colors, but it was still _there,_ bright and swift and miraculously _human_ in nature.

_We can go further._

Dipper found himself pushing past these newfound emotions and crossing into the next “room.” Here, colored orbs floated around images and scenes of Bill’s life through his eyes.

_This is understanding. Empathy and such. See how those orbs hover at a certain height?_

Indeed, the orbs only flew up about a quarter of the chamber, and barely chanced going any further. Above the cut-off point, images and scenes hovered, more than those below.

Before Dipper could ask, he felt Bill’s mind shake, felt a brief, sharp pain as Bill struggled to do something to his subconscious. Almost immediately after, the orbs, as if suddenly awakening from a half-asleep state, soared up to the highest reaches of the metaphysical room.

 _What does it mean?_ Dipper eventually asked.

 _It means that my range of understanding has expanded. That I can comprehend more human emotions than I could before. That I can understand_ you, _little tree._

Their connection broke when Bill moved away, his expression still somber.

Dipper could only stare at him in shock, and without his focus, his mind opened once again. “How did - when - _why -”_

Bill jerked his head towards the door. “Your sister helped me. _Willingly,”_ he added. He tapped a finger against his temple. “An emotion transfer. I’m now roughly 50% human.”

“50% human,” Dipper repeated slowly. “So you can feel -”

“I can feel way more than I used to. And because of our connection, I can feel your sadness.” Bill ran a hand through his hair and made a face, holding his head. “It’s...overwhelming. It’s so _powerful._ It’s the strongest emotion in your head right now.”

Dipper turned his head and moved away. _“Anger_ and sadness,” he said.

“Yeah,” Bill agreed. “There’s a lot of anger floating around.”

Dipper closed his eyes and sunk into their wavering, flickering mass of shared colors. There was his anger, white and boiling over like foaming water, and it faded to a piercing indigo agony that pooled across the “floor.” This sadness was slowly being tempered by amazement, a deep teal-green. Across the great space, Bill’s emotions danced and spun around, brand new colors that Dipper was seeing for the first time, or familiar colors with a more recent vibrancy to them. And there, hovering in a corner - _guilt._

Dipper opened his eyes, another burst of shock rendering him speechless. “You can feel _remorse?_ You can - you can feel _bad_ about things?” he demanded, tripping over his words. “But - but you _can’t_ do that. It’s impossible. You’re a _demon.”_

Bill shook his head, glancing off in a different direction, _embarrassed._ “Yeah, well, I’m _half_ demon now. That was the whole _point_ of this emotion transfer. So I can feel _regret._ So that I can understand what I did to you and genuinely regret it.”

“ _Why?”_

“Because you’re my _soulmate,”_ Bill said in frustration, flinging up his hands. “Because you _belong_ to me, and that’s never going to change. And I saw that you need me, that you’ve been wondering if I need you too. So because you’re so desperate to know - _I do._ Not in the same way that you do, but I do.”

He sighed heavily. “I’ve finally _got_ you, Pine Tree. If you think I’m letting you go, you’re sadly mistaken.”

This silence stretched further than any of those before them, and Dipper couldn’t not stare at Bill after this thoroughly _different_ revelation. The headspace was a mess, colors fighting and clashing and chasing each other out, others swirling around urgently. And there was some kind of desperation accompanied by Bill’s brand new sense of remorse.

“Then say that you’re sorry,” Dipper found himself saying. “And _mean_ it.”

Bill bit his lip and ran his hand through his hair yet again; at this rate, he would pull it all out. “Fine. I’m _sorry,”_ he grumbled.

“For what?” Dipper prompted, one side of his mouth twitching.

Bill sighed. “For lying to you and betraying you. Or whatever you want to call it.”

Dipper could feel his very real regret, even anguish, at what he had done, despite his unwillingness to say more than necessary. He well and truly _felt bad_ about what he had planned to do. He didn’t want to hurt Dipper in such a fashion, didn’t want to turn him against him. He wanted him to be subservient, still, which was questionable, but he no longer wanted to use him as a catalyst for destruction, and his homicidal tendencies were shoved rudely aside to make room for these new emotions.

The wound was still there, certainly. But at least Bill was trying to mend it instead of twisting the knife.

Bill was shifting around a lot, crossing and uncrossing his legs and chewing on his lip and pushing hair out of his face. “Are we done talking about this?” he asked curtly.

Dipper allowed a brief smile to cross his face before it became a frown again. “No. This isn’t over. Look, even if you can feel, and _do_ feel remorse now, that doesn’t mean your intentions never existed.”

Bill made a face. “That’s what your sister said too. Why can’t we just move past this and get on to the _real_ problems?” he asked impatiently. “Like, I dunno, the demon who’s still after me? After _us?”_

“Well, we have time for that, he can’t get from Texas to Oregon in like a day, can he? I know you can teleport, but not _that_ far, right?? That just seems unrealistic.”

“No, that’s impossible, even for him. But still, that’s more pressing that my newly adjusted moral compass,” Bill argued, crossing his arms. “I mean, come _on,_ Pine Tree, we don’t need to -”

“Yes, we do,” Dipper interrupted, glaring at him. “And if you have _any_ respect for me, you’ll listen and you’ll cooperate.”

Bill’s mouth twitched. _“Feisty,_ aren’t you?”

Dipper just scowled at him. “You’re not helping yourself here.”

“Fine, sorry, sorry.” Bill raised his hands in surrender. “What else is there to talk about??”

“Where we go from here. Feelings-wise,” Dipper added, grimacing. “I mean, there’s -”

“Wait. Just to make this perfectly clear - you’re _forgiving_ me?” Bill asked, his eyebrows raised in disbelief.

Dipper shook his head violently. “God, no, I don’t _forgive_ you, how could I forgive you for everything you’ve done?” he said bitterly. “I just know what you’ve been for billions of years and how your megalomania doesn’t go away if you enter a human vessel. And I know that you’re _trying_ to change, but I know that’ll take years, even with you now being…” He gestured to Bill. “...y’know, like this.” He sighed. “I’m just being logical. I have to be.”

“Oh. It’s just, well.” Bill coughed. “Considering what Damian offered you -”

Dipper shook his head. “He may have been honest, but I still don't trust him.” He smiled wryly. “Better to stick with the evil I know, right? And then there’s...headspace stuff. You know.”

“Still, I guess I’m just surprised,” Bill commented, looking at Dipper with something close to amazement. “You choose _me?_ After everything I’ve done? After what I -”

“Bill,” Dipper interrupted him, grabbing his wrists. There was an old fierceness in his expression when their eyes met. “You don’t get it. There _is_ no choice.”

It took a while for Bill to understand, staring at Dipper in surprise and confusion, his rigid shoulders eventually relaxing.

“Do you get it?” Dipper asked stiffly, his eyes darting away. “Can you -”

“I can feel it.”

It was _devotion,_ pure and simple, and there was finally a _name_ for the beautiful greens that swam through their heads when their bodies touched. Devotion born from their symbiotic connection, devotion that developed so quickly and became so powerful, so out of control. Bill had seen the colors and felt something odd, something entirely new and different, but had never had a word for it and had never felt it this deeply, the way Dipper did.

And though the feeling itself was pleasant, the “category” of emotions it fell into was one that was harder for him to comprehend and much more uncomfortable to accept. It meant that he _cared._ In some odd, otherworldly, subconscious way beyond what was normal for a demon, he _cared_ about Dipper. And he knew nothing about this kind of caring.

But it was there. And with Bill’s new humanity, they felt it in almost the same way, nothing diluted or altered. With their hands touching, it was amplified, the greens further saturating and pulsing like veins of emotion, and it was _addictive_ to Bill’s sensitive mind; it drew him in like a drug, and he wanted to feel _more._

So he wrapped his arms quickly and tightly around Dipper’s middle, pulling them together and burying his face in Dipper’s hair. Dipper made a noise in protest but couldn't deny it, couldn't push Bill away, not with the devotion coursing through his body, sparking from where their skin touched and easing him of his anxiety and pain. Instead he closed his eyes against Bill’s chest, against this brand new being, against his decision. His devotion might not always be logical or safe or reasonable, but it was there.

It would _always_ be there.

And knowing that Bill made this sacrifice and chose to experience all of these complicated human feelings he so despised and mocked, knowing that he gave up his pride and his greatest shield and left himself defenseless against emotions he was forced to feel, gave Dipper a reason not to drop-kick him out the door.

“You’re on thin ice,” he said finally, his voice muffled by Bill’s shirt.

Bill just laughed, his heart racing away in his chest but starting to slow down. Dipper felt his waning anxiety and grinned.

“You were _really_ nervous,” he commented, turning his head slightly. “I still feel it.” Those familiar blue-gray puddles still remained in the headspace, mostly on Bill’s end, but also on Dipper’s, both of them combining into two different forms of anxiety that mixed with each other.

Bill’s side glowed briefly with an orange annoyance, flecked with pink embarrassment. “Yeah, well, I had a reason to be. I don’t actually _want_ to be kicked out of my human body, or even just kicked out of this house. And I didn’t want to lose you,” he added brusquely. “It’s not fun not having a good relationship with a claim.”

“Right, because our relationship was so great before,” Dipper replied, rolling his eyes. “What even are we? Do we have a word for this whole mess?”

“I’m telling you, we’re _soulmates,”_ said Bill insistently, obviously trying not to laugh.

Dipper backed away from him and shoved him. “Absolutely not. Don’t push your luck.”

“Now are _finally_ done talking about this?” Bill asked, his fingers drumming on his leg. “Can we get to the important stuff?”

“Fine, let’s talk about Damian. But this isn’t over.” Dipper frowned and fell back onto the bed, looking up at the ceiling. Some of his aching anger was finally receding from his head. “What’s your brilliant plan? If you have one.”

“I...actually do not. Well, I...yeah, no.” Bill shrugged.

“Great, that’s helpful. Okay, well...if he comes at us now, which is _probable,_ we are definitely _not_ prepared. And I don’t want that guy anywhere close to Gravity Falls,” said Dipper firmly. “I don’t want to put innocent people in danger. We have to take the fight out of here.”

“Yeah, alright, that would give us more room,” Bill agreed, crossing his legs and looking at the opposite wall. “The only problem is, if he comes to us, he won’t care about any of that, no matter how _merciful_ he says he is.” Bill curled his lip in contempt. “Somehow, we have to take the fight to him.”

“He doesn’t seem like one to back down from a challenge like that. But we need him to think he’s _not_ going to be at a disadvantage, otherwise he’ll do God-knows-what.”

“Lull him into a false sense of security. Love it.” Bill clicked finger guns at Dipper, who gave him a look.

“Yeah, we need to catch him off guard, that’ll make him not as strong. We…” Dipper grimaced. “I know what I have to do.” He sat up, combing his fingers through his hair, looking grim.

Bill took in his expression with concern. “What?” He heard it in the headspace before Dipper could say it out loud, and his immediately reaction was a loud “ _no.”_ He was actually bristling, his eyes flickering red. “I won’t allow it.”

Dipper gave him a frustrated look. “Okay, I know your claim shit would go crazy, but there’s no better option. I mean, demons don’t want to seriously hurt their claims, do they? So you wouldn’t actually attack me, right? This would make him feel secure, more confident, and then when I turned on him -”

“ _Still,_ do you know how much that would _hurt_ me??” Bill demanded, standing up, his  hands balled into fists. “I’m not even exaggerating here, Pine Tree, this could _tear me apart._ Remember how I reacted when Damian offered that to you back in Newport? If the separation pain hadn’t hurt that much, I probably would have killed him then and there.”

“Even knowing that I’m still faithful to you?” Dipper asked, raising an eyebrow.

Bill’s face relaxed into a content expression for a moment before getting serious again. “ _Maybe_ less so. But still, knowing that another demon is _looking_ at you and is _close_ to you, maybe even _touching_ you? Just thinking about it is…” He bit his lip, his sharp teeth threatening to split it.

“Well, you’re going to have to deal with it,” said Dipper bluntly. “Me going with Damian would take him off guard and think that me _and_ Mabel are siding with him against you. And he knows that at least _I_ know some magic, he might not know that Mabel has magical potential too.”

“Alright, fine, _but,”_ Bill pointed at him, “if Damian looks into your head _at all,_ he’ll know that you’re still loyal to me, that you’re _mine_.” Another fleeting smile crossed his face. “So that would be pointless.”

“True,” Dipper conceded, putting his hand over his mouth as he thought. Bill, looking satisfied with himself, sat back down on the bed and tried to inconspicuously scoot closer to Dipper.

Dipper snapped his fingers. “Right, okay. You can see into my memories, correct?”

“As much as I want to and as much as you let me, yes.”

“And you can alter my emotions.”

Bill nodded.

“So can you alter my memories?” Dipper looked up at Bill. He was hardly asking for _permission;_ the headspace was practically storming with determination, a thick forest green.

Bill’s sudden sky-blue surprise gathered at the edges. “Alter your memories?? For what?”

“I got an idea. So, I go with Damian. _Yes,_ I know, you don’t want me to,” Dipper added at Bill’s expression. “But it would work really well. It would let his guard down, _and,_ he might train me in magic, which would give us another advantage. But he would know everything if he touched my head at all.”

“Right.”

“So if we alter my memories and get rid of...all the stuff we just said, and replace it with different memories, he won't know that I'm on your side!” said Dipper, his voice getting higher in excitement. “That would work perfectly!”

But Bill was determined to prove him wrong at every turn. “But he’ll still see the soul bond,” he pointed out, crossing his arms. “That alone would tell him all he needed to know about your _allegiances.”_

“Right.” Disappointed, Dipper pressed his hands to his temples. “Then what…” His words faded to silence as he thought, his face falling.

With this new thought, Bill hissed like an animal, leaping to his feet again. “ _No. N - no.”_ He spat furiously. “ _No!”_

“Bill - “

“ _I won’t allow it,”_ Bill snarled again, his voice more guttural and feral. His hands were balled into fists again, his knuckles turning white, his eyes burning scarlet red. “That wouldn’t just kill _me,_ it would kill the _both_ of us, it would create irreparable scars - it would - it would -” His whole body started to shake, he was gnashing his teeth and was suddenly more _demonic,_ more dangerous -

“Bill!” Dipper said frantically and with some irritation, jumping up and grabbing at the demon’s wrists. He saw his eyes, how scarlet was actually flickering to _black,_ and knew that Bill was quickly losing control, that it could spiral down in a matter of seconds. He quickly reached for Bill’s head and brought their foreheads together, hoping that he could hold him back.

The sudden explosion of fury, as intense as it was in Dipper’s mind alone, was a supernova with their foreheads touching. It almost knocked Dipper off of his feet and sent him to the floor, but he clutched Bill’s head close to his own and began his battle against this onslaught of anger.

 _It’s the only option,_ he thought, the deep gray of his logic fading into Bill’s white fury.

 _We can’t!_ Bill’s thought slammed brutally into his own, smashing it into pieces. _I won’t let you leave. I won’t let you do this to me._

 _It’s not about what you_ let _me do,_ Dipper thought angrily, his frustration battling back, _it’s about what_ we _need to do._

 _We’ll find another way._ Bill’s thoughts were so forceful and Dipper found the strength of them much too familiar, a hot dread settling in his stomach. The only thing that was missing was the roaring red hurricane he had grown so accustomed to. It gave him an almost _nostalgic_ feeling, like he _missed_ Bill’s influence in his head.

Bill saw his flickers of recognition. _You’re just as tied to me as I am to you. We’re not doing this to each other._ You’re _not doing this to_ me. _You’re already fucking_ tearing me apart, _little tree, are you masochistic enough to rip yourself into pieces too?_

His genuine rush of anguish that accompanied all of that anger was almost enough to sway Dipper from his decision, but Dipper remained firm and stood up to Bill’s thoughts as they hammered against his skull. _It’s the best way for us to beat him. Just_ think _for a minute, Bill, this would_ completely _take Damian’s guard down, he would believe me to be on his side, he wouldn’t see anything suggesting that I was loyal to you, our plan would work perfectly. You could make all the preparations, invite him to fight you far out of town, then he and I would go and you put my memories back and we all kick his ass._

Bill continued to fume, his emotions boiling and roaring, but he could reluctantly see the logic in the situation. _Pine Tree, do you understand what splitting a soul bond even entails? Remember how painful it was to put the headspace in our heads, to create this? Imagine how much it would hurt to rip it_ out. _Mentally, it could destroy you. I’m a demon, so my mind is stronger, but you’re just a human._ His mental self sighed.

 _Won’t things be easier without it, though?_ Dipper asked tentatively. _We wouldn’t experience all this weird crap, the separation pain and all of that. And you won’t be bound to me. We wouldn’t be forced to live out the rest of my life together._

 _You’re wrong,_ Bill snapped, his anger getting the best of him, _because it’s not that simple. I don’t know if you got it from the_ name _of the ritual, but you’re not exactly supposed to_ break _a soul bond. So, yes, it breaks, and some things end. But you know what_ doesn’t _end? All of this fucking_ suffering! _Separation pain? Feeling each other’s physical sensations? The consequences of a break are_ nothing _compared to those. You’re so_ naive, _you think stopping this little spell is going to make everything go away. It_ won’t. _You_ want _this, Pine Tree? You want this?_

Bill’s words echoed in Dipper’s head and he remembered the same words out of Bill’s mouth months ago, more incredulous and mocking, less pained and desperate than now.

 _I want this._ His past self had the same reluctance, and his present self had a different anguish.

Bill bared his teeth and Dipper felt his nose wrinkle. _I can’t lose you in every single way. I can’t watch you leave -_

 _You’re going to have to,_ Dipper interjected before Bill could sway him, though he bit his lip in guilt and he knew Bill could see the emotion hanging limply in the headspace.

 _Every waking second I’ll be thinking of different ways to dismember Damian and kill him in the most gruesome way possible, just because he’ll be_ around _you. And being around you without our bond? It’s...it’s like you do belong to him. Like you’re not mine._

And Bill’s fury was popping up again, great bursts of black that cancelled out so many emotions and colors. It was more powerful than he’d ever felt it before, hammering against his head and smashing against his brain and all that it contained, nearly shouting out loud at the feeling.

 _You don’t understand, Pine Tree, you just don’t understand!_ Bill snarled, his voice loud and harsh inside their heads. _I can start to understand how you think and develop my own little human personality but you will_ never _know what it’s like to be a demon, to be a supernatural being. You don’t understand this bloodlust and possessiveness and how everything’s only gotten more intense because of the soul bond. Being apart from you, with the soul bond gone, with your memories gone, with you spending time in the company of another demon, it fucking_ destroys _me -_

His mind’s eye temporarily blacked out from Bill’s anger, Dipper wrenched himself away and tightened his hold on Bill’s head. His fingers were desperate as they tangled themselves in Bill’s hair, his mouth even more desperate when he kissed him. There was nothing coordinated about it, and it lost all hope of coordination when Bill came to his senses and grabbed Dipper’s waist, kissing him with the same raw despairing desire. He pushed up the back of Dipper’s shirt and his hand found the black triangle mark, the touch of his warm skin nearly electric.

No love, but no lust either. Just the knowledge that the devotion they had for each other, deeper and more powerful than any other emotional connection, was going to disappear. That they had very little time left to recognize it in both of their minds, not just Dipper’s. That, should they fail, they would never feel it again, and their heads would only echo the memory of this undying devotion, a memory that would plague them forever.

 _So we’re doing it._ It wasn’t a question. It could no longer be a question.

 _I guess it’s our only option,_ Bill thought grimly.

 _Desperate times call for desperate measures._ They weren’t really kissing anymore, just determined to be as close to each other as possible, considering a time was coming where they couldn’t. Their lips still moved against each other’s, they held tight to one another, and more than ever they knew that they _belonged_ together. That the safest place for them was in each other’s arms.

 _So._ Bill’s mental voice was heavy. _We train you up a bit, go over our fight strategy, put up some good borders around your head. Then we...break the soul bond, change your memories, and -_

_\- send me off to Damian, yes._

He exhaled loudly. _I hate this plan._

_You rarely like my ideas._

_And you rarely like mine._

_Then I guess we’re at an impasse. But we’re still doing this._

There was a creaking sound at the door and they both quickly turned their heads to it, embarrassment jumping up again in the headspace at the sight of Mabel in the doorway.

“Oh, er - sorry to interrupt,” she said, pursing her lips. “I just wanted to see if...things were okay. And it looks like you guys are busy, so -”

“No, no, no, we - we have stuff to tell you,” said Dipper hastily as he extracted himself from Bill’s grip and walked over to her, his whole body still shaking. “We have - “

“Wait, wait, so you guys made up??” Mabel demanded, looking between the two of them. “I need a clear answer here before we can move on. If Bill’s still being an asshole -”

“No, it’s fine,” Dipper interrupted her, putting a hand on her shoulder. “We...we have an understanding.” He glanced over at Bill. “We’re gonna work together. I’ll tell you more later when we’re alone.”

She opened her mouth, closed it, and nodded. “Okay.” She smoothed down the front of her sweater and cleared her throat. “So, what’s going on?”

“We have a plan,” Dipper said before Bill could interject. “But it’s complicated, and it’s difficult. Are you on board?”

Mabel gave him an incredulous look. “Am I _on board?_ Dip, you’re my twin, of course I’m on board. Also because I don’t want to die.”

“Okay then, I guess...I guess we can get started.” Dipper and Bill looked at each other again, despair still dancing away inside of their heads. Their green devotion had deep gray undertones that they did their best to ignore.

Bill clapped his hands. “Alright, now, the first thing we need to do,” he said, turning to Mabel and pointing at her, “is to teach _you_ magic.”

Mabel’s eyes grew huge and her jaw dropped. “You’re gonna teach me _magic??_ Like real actual magic and not just the little things you showed me? Like, _big_ magic?”

“The _biggest_ magic,” Bill assured her. To Dipper, he thought, _we can all talk about everything else later._

 _Okay._ Dipper bit his lip. _Don’t -_

 _I won’t._ Bill stepped closer to him and reached for his hand, clasping it tightly in his own. _Stay with me. As long as you can._

Dipper nodded and ignored the suspicious look his sister gave him as the group of three headed out.

 

“So what exactly is going on?” Mabel asked quietly. They were taking a break from magic practice, the two siblings sitting on the couch next to each other and recovering from serious mental and physical strain.

“I’m guessing you mean the whole thing about -”

“Letting him stay here.”

Dipper sighed and stared at his knees, tapping his foot repeatedly on the ground. “It’s complicated.”

“Things always are with you two. Just try to explain it.”

Dipper took a deep breath and exhaled. “Okay, it’s...do you understand the significance behind that emotion transfer thing you did?” he asked hesitantly.

“Kind of?” Mabel shrugged. “I mean, he was cussing up a storm after it ended, so I assumed it hurt him a lot, and he went off on this whole thing like how he’s ‘not supposed to change’ or whatever and that’s why it was so hard on him, because he’s, like, way too different from humans to actually be like one of us.”

“Hm.” Dipper raised his head and turned his gaze to the wall. “It was a sacrifice,” he said, “of like...basically everything that he is. Everything - or, I guess, half of everything - that makes him a demon and separate from humans. Y’know, everything he’s lorded over us in the last few months. And basically ever since we were kids. He’s brought himself down to our level. It might not seem like much, but it really is.”

Mabel nodded absentmindedly, looking at the wall along with her brother. She tried to swing her legs back and forth but remembered that her legs were too long.

“He did it for you, you know,” she said eventually. “He told me.”

Dipper made a noncommittal noise, turning slightly away from her and ducking his head. She could barely see him purse his lips out of the corner of her eye.

“He said you were a big part of his life and that you’re half of who he is. I think you matter way more to him than you ever thought you did.”

“I mattered to him mostly as property for the longest time, it’s only _now_ that he’s seeing me as a person, not just something to play around with,” Dipper replied bluntly.

“But he’s feeling these things so intensely. And, you’re the one who -”

“Because he’s half of me too,” Dipper said heavily, resting his chin in his hands. “And like it or not, that’s not going to end. Even when we split the soul bond -”

“Whoa, whoa, back it up, _what?”_ Mabel demanded, looking at him. “I thought the whole point of this crap was to _keep_ the soul bond, now you’re telling me you’re breaking it??”

“Temporarily,” Dipper said. “Long enough to trick Damian. Then, if we make it out alive -”

“- you make it again,” Mabel finished. “I get it. But, geez, I thought the whole point of a soul bond is that you _can’t_ break it.” She ran a hand through her hair, her mouth twisted in a confused frown.

“You can, it’s just super complicated and you really _shouldn’t,_ considering the damage it does to your mind, but we have to do it to get rid of Damian.”

“What does it do??”

“Well, the creation of our shared headspace where we share thoughts, feelings, whatever, that gets literally ripped out of our minds,” Dipper began, and Mabel shuddered. “And then there’s the other bonds that tie our minds together, those are all chopped away, and it’s like cutting a nerve, right?” He mimed severing something. “You cut a nerve, you stop an entire process, and it _hurts._ So it ends all of the mental processes that we share. It’s like cutting off your hand.”

Mabel made a disgusted face. “And you’re doing this _willingly?”_

“I have to! It’s the best way to do this,” said Dipper firmly.

“Why put yourself through all of this?” Mabel asked rather slowly, her eyebrows furrowing. “All this pain, why even do this?”

Dipper seemed to struggle with words for a few long seconds. “I - for him, I guess. For the stupidest decision I’ve ever made in my life. Because I...I need him. And he told me that he needs me too, just as much, and now in the same way. It’s a connection that goes deeper than any other emotional bond.”

“But doesn’t that all end when the soul bond breaks?”

“Some of it does, but there’s always going to be this...I dunno, this feeling that something’s missing, like I’m chasing something that I’ll never get, it’s just...it’s a longing, and it hurts so much, and you feel like so much of you is just _gone._ It’s not something that anyone wants to live with. It might even hurt me more than it hurts to just _live_ with Bill.”

“Wow.”

A minute passed before Mabel was hugging her brother tightly, her head ducked into his shoulder. He hugged her back, their nervous hearts beating together.

“I love you,” Mabel said, her voice muffled. “I love you, bro, so you gotta make sure you come back alive and fix the soul bond thingie, okay?”

Dipper laughed hoarsely. “Okay. And you gotta practice your magic with Bill because I know you’re going to insist on tagging along to this demon fight.”

“You bet your butt I am, I would never let you go off to that alone,” said Mabel firmly, pulling away and pushing strands of hair out of her face. “I’ll train up, and so will you. Damian’s gonna want to teach you all kinds of stuff, I’m sure. ‘Specially after he sees that you’re definitely totally loyal to him.”

Dipper nodded. “That’s what we’re counting on. And, I - I’m sorry, Mabel.” He looked away, brushing one of her hairs off of his arm. “I’m sorry you’ve been left out of so much of this and...just all of that. I know you’ve felt like an outsider, and I never wanted you to. This weird soul bond crap, it’s...it’s something different. I care about you more than anyone else, you know that, right?” he asked, brave enough to look her in the eye again.

She cracked a smile, her eyes crinkling. “‘Course I do, you big dope.” She punched him on the arm. “Bill’s got _nothin’_ on you and me, I know that.”

Dipper laughed, his voice a little more cheery. “Good.”

“And seriously, it’s okay to leave me out of it. Like, not _everything,_ but I know how personal this kinda stuff is,” Mabel added, looking serious again. “Tell me all that you wanna tell me, and don’t bother with the other stuff, ‘kay? I’m sure you don’t want to tell me _everything_ about your life _.”_

“No, I really don’t.”

Bill opened the main door and turned to the living room. “Okay, there you two are. I think we’ve done what we can for now, if we hold off any longer Damian might get suspicious.”

Dipper heaved a sigh and got up off the couch. “Alright. So first we break the soul bond. We should fog up my memories right before I go off to Damian, just so we know nothing will affect the new stuff.”

“Right.”

“Okay. I guess...let’s do that now. Did you -”

“I prepared everything, it’s out back. And you have the ritual and everything?”

Bill nodded, his mouth twitching in a hint of a smile. " _And,_ I wrote pronunciations above some of those tricky Latin words, just for you.”

Dipper gave him a deadpan look. “Thanks.”

“Anytime! Alright, let’s go rip our souls in half,” said Bill with fake cheerfulness, despair starting to show through his bravado.

 

The ritual was terrible. Dipper remembered the glowing lines of green that had enveloped them when they bound their souls together; now, red streaks of neon ripped themselves to shreds and fell to the ground. He swore he was speaking through his sobs at one point, trembling as numbness slowly spread through his body.

Their minds fought against the incantation powerfully, so much that Dipper thought he might pass out from the pain. They had been bound together so tightly, their minds wrapped around each other like lines of DNA and almost becoming a single strand, that pulling them apart was a nightmare, like they were tearing out parts of their brains.

And by the end of it, Dipper was terribly, awfully alone in his own head, mentally grasping blindly for the headspace, for Bill’s presence, and finding only the borders of his mind. As soon as the red had faded, Mabel was at his side, holding him, asking him frantically if he was okay, telling him that he had been screaming bloody murder. All he could do was collapse into her arms and sob, suddenly aware of the hot tears running down his cheeks, of the great pain that was already tearing him in half. He couldn’t look at Bill.

He took about three pain pills once he had stumbled back inside the house, then went upstairs and crashed, willing the pain to dissipate as he slept.

 

_“Mason.”_

_Dipper opened his eyes and found Damian standing above him. He tried to reply, but he couldn’t speak; it was a sort of a one-way channel. He didn’t even have a physical form in this dream._

_Damian had been bending over slightly, looking into Dipper’s “face,” but now he stood up straight, his shoulders and face relaxing. “Good, you can hear me. So, I’m back in town. After our little confrontation in Austin, I realized that I left something out of my offer - how to get to me.”_

_He adjusted the “camera” of Dipper’s dreaming eye to see the space around them. “Do you recognize this? It’s the way out of Gravity Falls, just a bit away from the 76 gas station. If you decide to join me and leave Cipher, meet me here at midnight tomorrow night. I have a house not far from here, and I’ll take good care of you while you recover from what he did.” His voice dripped with sweet sympathy. “Just_ awful _that he would lie to you about his motives. I have only one motive - destroying him.”_

_He looked back at Dipper. “I do hope you’ve considered my offer. I understand if you have some trepidation, of course, but feel free to think of me as the lesser of two evils.” He laughed. “I’m not a chaos demon, after all. I see no need to cause unnecessary destruction.”_

_He cracked his knuckles and smoothed back his hair. “So, I hope to see you tomorrow night. If not, I’ll still see you again very soon, Mason. It would be a pity, though, for you to waste yourself on him.” Tutting, he shook his head. “There are so many better things you could do.”_

_He gave a little wave from the wrist and said cheerily, “Until tomorrow! Oh - and don’t think of challenging me to a fight now, just in case you_ did _decide to stay with Cipher. You don’t want that mess anywhere close to your little town, do you? Of course not.”_

_He blew a kiss to Dipper. “I look forward to seeing you again.”_

 

“Hey, bro? Dip, wake up.”

Dipper rolled over and blearily opened his eyes, looking up at his sister. “Whas’ goin’ on?”

“Breakfast’s ready,” she replied tentatively, concerned. “Are you alright? Does it still hurt?”

The pain pills had helped a bit, and he said as much, but there was still a great big gaping hole in his head, and everything just felt _wrong._ He felt like an alien creature in his body, like he didn’t _belong_ there. More than anything, he was filled with an awful longing, a sense of being incomplete, an endless desire that couldn’t be sated.

“ _Fuck,_ anyway, I had an awful but very convenient dream,” he said, trying to push the pain away, wincing and rubbing at his temples. “Damian told me where he would wait for me.”

“Wow, that _is_ convenient,” Mabel commented. She narrowed her eyes. “A little _too_ convenient. Did he just come up to Gravity Falls to stalk you or what?”

“Well, he’s offered me to join him twice now,” said Dipper heavily, “so he’s hoping that I’ll meet up with him then to go with him.”

“And that’s exactly what you’re gonna do, right?” Mabel prompted, sitting on his bed.

Dipper nodded. “Yep. It made it a _lot_ easier.”

“Well, that means we’re doing everything...today,” said Mabel, staring at the far wall. “We can take your memories away, all that.” Her expression was somber.

 _Did you get all that?_ Dipper thought. _We can meet Damian at -_

Right.

His head stung powerfully for a few seconds. He had forgotten that Bill wasn’t in his mind anymore.

With Mabel’s help, considering his entire body ached, he went downstairs. He actually winced at the sight of Bill, sitting at the table with his head in his hands, his hair a total mess.

“It _hurts,”_ Bill complained, and his immature high-pitched tone masked the powerful anguish that ate away at his mind.

Dipper cracked a dry smile and sat down, immediately launching into the topic of his dream.

Bill was grimacing by the time he had finished his explanation. “Great, I guess that makes this somewhat easier.”

Mabel clapped her hands. “Okay, less talk-talk, more eat-eat, Dipper’s got a big day. All of us do, actually, if we want to cram in some more practice,” she added as an afterthought. With this as reasoning, she dug into an almost absurd pile of pancakes.

The men kept their eyes off of each other throughout breakfast; it was difficult just to be near each other without their bond, those invisible strings that laced them so tightly together and made them into something entirely new. Neither were used to being a _half_ after briefly being a _whole._

When they had all cleaned up, Dipper and Bill practically emptied out the little bottle of pain pills. After chugging some down with the help of a cup of coffee, Dipper asked, “So are we doing magic practice now, is that the plan for the day?”

“Yep, that’s the plan,” Mabel confirmed, standing up straight and tying her hair back into a ponytail. “I wanna try out some of that stuff I learned yesterday. Earth manipulation is _awesome.”_

The three of them made for the door, but Bill stopped, grabbing at Dipper’s arm.

“Wait,” he said, glancing at Dipper. “We need to talk more. Can you practice by yourself for a bit?” he asked Mabel.

She paused, her eyes darting between them, then nodded and headed outside, the door closing lightly behind her. Bill gestured to the living room and Dipper cautiously went in ahead of him, sitting on the couch. Bill sat across from him, his dark eyebrows low above his eyes and an old fire in his eyes.

“What do we have left to talk about?” Dipper asked somewhat louder than necessary to hide his awkwardness.

“It’s not exactly talking,” Bill said, and leaned forward to hold Dipper in his arms, pressing his face into the side of his hair. His hands didn’t wander south of his waist.

Dipper hesitated, his hands hanging in the air, before wrapping his arms around Bill’s upper back, closing his eyes against his neck. They shifted themselves to get closer to each other, and it felt _right,_ the longing in Dipper’s head was temporarily satisfied with his former soulmate embracing him. They both knew this burst of relief would end once they weren’t touching anymore, and they didn’t want it to end, didn’t want to go back to constant pain.

Knowing their time together was ending, knowing how much pain was awaiting them when they broke apart for the final time, Bill pulled away just enough to hold Dipper’s face in his hands and kiss him.

Dipper turned his head away, though he kept his arms around Bill’s shoulders. “We shouldn’t,” he said, looking at the couch cushion. “It’s just gonna make everything worse when we’re apart.”

Bill’s grip tightened around him. “Then I want to take advantage of this time we have left. I want _you,_ little tree, I want you.”

The intensity in his voice made Dipper shiver and he rested his face against Bill’s shoulder. “We shouldn’t,” he repeated, albeit reluctantly. “We need to get used to the separation -”

“I don’t _care_ about any of that,” said Bill impatiently. “All I care about is _here_ and _now_ and _you_ right in front of me.”

“But -”

Bill cut Dipper off by kissing him again, forceful but with the same desperation, the same reckless abandon as time was running out. Dipper made a noise of protest when Bill shoved him down onto the couch, pinning his wrists down as he kissed him, but Dipper only strained once against Bill’s grip before giving in. It was too easy to get lost in his presence, the weight of his body, his mouth. He was so miraculously _human._ It was incredible.

Barely a minute later, Bill was pushing Dipper’s shirt up to his arms and sucking at his chest, determined to leave a few final, lasting marks on his human. Dipper weakly tried to push Bill’s head away, but this only incensed him, biting and kissing as his breathing grew heavier.

“Can we not do this on the couch?” Dipper was eventually able to ask, his eyes locked on Bill’s blond hair as the demon trailed his mouth lower down his body.

Bill paused and huffed a laugh. “Right.” He sat back on his knees and looked down at Dipper with a familiar flare of hunger in his eyes. “Upstairs?”

Dipper couldn’t. He didn’t want to. It was a bad idea. Their souls were already divided, and this would make everything hurt so much worse, to be so close to that closeness and then have it torn away from him. Along with this, the pain of Bill’s betrayal was still floating around and occasionally stabbing the sides of his head. He remembered the humiliation that hit him after Bill had told him the truth, knowing that this fucking monster had seen him naked, had had sex with him, had taunted and mocked him and _coerced_ him. Guilt added to the stabbing pains as his mind chastised himself for thinking about it, for _wanting_ to fall into that trap again.

 _Hey, there’s a fair chance I’ll never do this again,_ he thought wryly, more than a little bitter, _so why the hell not._

“Upstairs,” Dipper said heavily, his voice lower than ever, and despite the victory in his expression, Bill didn’t even attempt a smile.

 

Bill had his hands on Dipper’s head, the man’s eyes closed and hands in his lap, Mabel sitting off to the side looking anxious. She hadn’t commented on the red marks that stood out all too obviously on Dipper’s neck.

“Almost done,” Bill said quietly, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, his mouth tight. “I’m putting in the false memories now. You’re ready to drive him out?”

“Yep,” said Mabel, nodding. She was fiddling with the two hair bands on her wrists as her heart pounded rapidly. It was such a delicate operation and she was more nervous than she had ever been in her life. More so than finals, more so than any love confession or first date, more so than how she ever felt around Pacifica.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” she said suddenly, looking at Bill. He didn’t look back at her. “What if I -”

“You’re not going to,” said Bill, calmer than Mabel had ever heard him. “You’ll be fine. Everything’s going to be fine. It will.” The last two words were said forcefully to himself.

Another minute passed before Bill murmured something under his breath, took his hands away from Dipper’s head, and stood up.

“It’s done. I’ve made him unconscious for a good five minutes, so I can get out of here and you can prepare yourself.”

“You’re leaving?” Mabel asked, confused. “I thought you were staying here.”

“It’ll only be for a little bit. You two kicked me out, remember?” Bill tapped his head with a finger. “So I’ll be off. I should be back in a few hours.”

He looked down at Dipper one last time, possessiveness and devotion and anguish and frustration rolled into a single expression, and skimmed his forehead with the tips of his fingers, closing his eyes. For a moment, Mabel believed she could even _see_ their devotion. But when Bill withdrew his hand and disappeared, she was sure she had imagined it.

After a few minutes, Dipper shifted, blinking sleepily as he came out of his hypnotic stupor. “What’s...Mabel?”

“You, er, fell asleep,” she said quickly, and moved to help him to his feet. Looking at him, she could see something _dull_ in his usually vibrant eyes. There was so much that he had been made to forget.

 _He chose this,_ she reminded herself, but his expression still gave her chills.

“So, are we ready to go?” Dipper asked. He reached over and grabbed a duffel bag off the couch, hefting it over his shoulder. “I’m all set.”

She took a deep breath and exhaled. “Yep. Yep! All set. Let’s head out.”

Their faces were equally grim as they walked out to the car. Dipper stared at the shack for quite a few seconds, then shook his head and got in the passenger seat.

The drive wasn’t long, but it felt like hours to Mabel. Time slowly ticked by with every tap of the gas or the break, every flip of the turn signal, every side glance at her brother as he stared stonily out the window. It was like the last few days hadn’t happened - well, they hadn’t. Not in Dipper’s mind.

“You doing okay?” she asked tentatively, praying that nothing she said would screw up Bill’s manipulation.

Dipper nodded. “M’ fine. Totally fine.” He grinned at her. “This is gonna be so much _better.”_

She forced a laugh. “Yeah, yeah, it will. Just - make sure to ask about coming to visit, okay?” she asked anxiously. “Or me coming to visit you, all that.”

“Yeah, of course.” Dipper turned to the window again. “Take a right, then we’re there.”

Mabel flipped the turn signal a final time and drove down the paved road past the 76. “Is anywhere around here okay?” she asked, scanning up and down the forested sides of the roads, trees heavy with leaves waving ominously in the gentle wind.

Dipper pointed. “I recognize that tree, pull over here.”

Mabel turned the wheel and the car slid to a stop in a patch of dirt and grass. Both of them got out, the car doors open, and Dipper walked up to said tree.

“You saw this in your dream?” Mabel looked at it curiously.

“Yeah. It was behind Damian.”

They fell quiet. Crickets chirped in the undergrowth, a lone owl cried above them, and the dim roar of the highway hummed beneath it all.

The sky, so broad and vast and filled with millions of stars, now seemed too close. Mabel could feel the world growing smaller around her.

“I - I guess I should go,” she said eventually, her voice almost a croak. She opened her arms. “Awkward sibling hug?”

Dipper looked at her with his muted eyes and laughed, hugging her. “One hundred percent sincere sibling hug. Take care of yourself.”

“You know I will, I’m more worried about _you,”_ Mabel joked, lightly pushing him. “Take it easy, bro. And call me if there’s any trouble.”

“I will,” he promised, smiling.

At least some of his anguish was gone.

Mabel couldn’t look at him any longer, fearing that the tears gathering in her eyes would betray the plan and her own emotions. “Okay, Dip, I’ll see you.”

“Bye, Mabes! I love you!” he called as she hopped into the car and started it.

Holding back a sniff, Mabel shouted, “I love you too!” over the sound of the engine, then made a U-turn and floored it down the road. With one hand on the wheel, she used the other to wipe her eyes.

She knew that she might not see her brother again. And if they did, something - _anything -_ could go wrong. Maybe he would be stuck like this. Maybe he really _would_ defect to Damian.

Forcing these thoughts aside, Mabel steeled herself to sleep alone in an empty house, and tried not to worry about him. Still, his glassy eyes chased her back to the shack, and she could only hope and pray that everything was going to be okay.

 

Dipper’s hoodie was thick enough to cushion his back as he leaned against the tree, but not too thick for the cool night air. To pass the time, he had his phone out, but he found himself near constantly checking the road or the sky or the trees, who knows.

The more he was able to distract himself, the less he thought about the horrible holes in his head. There were more than he could remember - some were smaller, some bigger. But they all paled to the absence of the headspace, the gigantic open sore in his mind. He hadn’t cared about the pain when they had split the soul bond, and he didn’t regret it, of course, but it was one hell of a price to pay.

The smaller holes and gaps were an irritating addition to this raw ache, and he had no idea where they came from. He assumed they were after-effects of splitting the soul bond, but still. Still.

In a final attempt to distract himself, waiting for Damian to arrive and maybe rescue him from this despair, the hell that had been his life for the past few days, Dipper looked up at the road and muttered, “Damn, asshole better show up.”

Damian appeared seemingly from nowhere, his shoes loud on the gravel on the other side of the road. His expression was more relaxed, more confident and at peace than Dipper had ever seen him.

And with a smile, Damian asked, “Talking about me?”

Dipper looked up at him, startled but not letting it show, and pocketed his phone. “Good, you’re here.”

“And?” Damian prompted.

“And, I’ve decided,” said Dipper, ignoring the sudden bursts of pain and anguish and terrible, terrible longing in his head. “I’ll go with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **last edited: 11.8.16**
> 
> thank you for getting dm to 1100 kudos, it means so much to me, thank you all so much.


	28. Chapter Twenty-Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ACT 3 ACT 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more bad latin - feel free to correct me. (though the sentences are arranged backwards.)

“Sorry, Damian, but now it’s _three_ against one.” Glittering wisps of blue smoke coalesced and expanded until there were roaring stormy spheres of magic in Dipper’s hands, hovering barely a centimeter off of his skin. Blue lit up his face and clothing, and the new vibrance in his eyes was suddenly illuminated.

Damian had spared only a second to be shocked and furious. He stood up straight once again, now looking only mildly phased at the problematic situation unfolding before him. “You know, I figured you’d have _some_ remaining bond that would prevent you from being a _real_ asset, but this takes the cake,” he remarked, shaking his head. “I am impressed, though. You broke the soul bond, erased your memories, and crossed into enemy territory, and all for what, _him?”_ He gestured to Bill.

“You can’t understand the depths of a soul bond,” Dipper replied, somewhat unsteady. He looked over at Bill, at his indistinguishable expression, and his whole body felt lighter. “You couldn’t know unless you’ve had one.”

“I suppose not,” Damian conceded, “but I still see this all as one big wrong decision. Really, Mason, you’re not the best at making logical choices.” He sighed. “Well, I suppose I’ll have to resort to desperate measures myself. I really didn’t want to.”

Three black arms burst from his back with a hissing noise and were onto Dipper in seconds. Two aimed for his hands, and the other for his head. As Dipper swatted the lower two away with suspicious ease, his magic scalding them, the latter pushed aside his bangs and grazed his birthmark with one cold, black finger.

And Dipper froze in place.

After a few tense seconds of silence and stillness, Bill leaped forward, hissing at Damian, “What the hell did you _do_ to him?” His eyes burned with yellow fire, all of his pointed teeth bared in anger.

Damian laughed once. “I’ve been in his head for over a month, _Cipher,_ what do you think I’ve been doing, just going through his meaningless memories?” he asked, curling his lip. “I’ve been developing an influence in his brain, all the way from his motor functions to his thoughts.”

Dipper unfroze and walked forward like a zombie, his eyes glazed over again with a different kind of mindlessness. He blinked once, turned to Bill, and released his magic with no further delay.

Mabel was able to dodge the assault, yelping and jumping out of the way. The furious magic collided with Bill as he stood unprepared and sent him flying backward like a punch to the gut. He fell to the ground with scorch marks on his shirt spitting profanity and wiping blood off of his face.

“ _Blackwood!”_ he snarled, with all the ferocity of a wild animal. “Release him!”

“You actually _helped_ me here, Cipher,” Damian commented, nodding and completely unfazed by Bill’s anger. “I admit I attempted to try it out earlier, but I was unable to access his head. Once you brought that shield down, it all became accessible, so I have you to thank.”

He made a flicking motion with his hand. “Now, go play with your pet. Don’t beat him up too much, I’ll need him later. Right, Mason?” Dipper nodded automatically.

Bill and Mabel exchanged a look. “Take him,” said Mabel, her expression grim. “I’ll handle Dipper.”

“Are you sure? You’ll have to -”

“I know.” Mabel took a deep breath and exhaled, turning to face her brother. “But I did it once. I can do it again.” Her hands balled into fists and she blew some hair out of her face.

Bill nodded once and struggled to his feet, brushing dust off of his shirt, mildly disgusted. “Blackwood!” he shouted again. “Face me yourself!”

Damian, who had retreated to watch, turned around in surprise. “Really? You’re leaving him to his own sister?”

A sudden miniature earthquake was the response.

The earth was rippling like waves, dust rising off of the roiling red sea that had formed beneath Dipper’s feet. The pink light that glowed in Mabel’s palms lit up the rusty dirt between her and her brother as she stared forward with some magenta flecks in her eyes and a determined expression on her face, wounded but unrelenting. She did nothing as Dipper fell to the ground roughly, nor when he flailed on the suddenly fluid ground beneath him.

The aftershocks hit Damian and Bill and they nearly stumbled over. “I suppose that’s the answer,” Damian replied brusquely, gracefully regaining his balance.

Bill caught a flash of something like _fear_ in his glowing eyes, and he bared all of his teeth in a smile. “Don’t underestimate your opponents, Blackwood.”

Damian cracked his neck. “Then don’t expect any mercy.”

“I won’t.”

With no further ado, they launched themselves at each other, grappling with hands and feet and fighting dirty. Bill sunk his teeth into Damian’s neck, Damian headbutted him, Bill punched him in the solar plexus, Damian turned and lashed out with his foot and kicked Bill to the ground again. Coughing and nearly out of breath, their magic appeared, Damian’s hands waving in the air glowing violet and crackling with energy, fire racing up Bill’s arms and glowing white-hot in his palms.

“Let’s dance, Cipher,” Damian said, wiping blood off of his mouth and discarding his coat, tossing it to the side.

“As long as you’ve got the moves,” Bill countered. He touched the ground with one flaming hand and five feet of dirt caught on fire, racing towards Damian before the other demon could move out of the way.

Hissing and spitting like a cat, Damian did his best to swat the fire off of his clothes and skin. A few of his hands moved to put out the fire, and the others lashed through the air to Bill. One wrapped around his neck and squeezed, others dug into his sides, and still more attempted to lock Bill’s hands together.

Choking, Bill was still able to ignite his arms with blue fire once again and burn the black hands tugging at his own, forcing them away. Damian shrieked in response, furious with pain and frustration. As still more boneless arms whipped through the air, the stump without a hand accompanied them, a permanent reminder of Bill’s attacks. Bill tore the black hands at his neck away from him and dug his fingernails into those at his waist, forcing a deep oil-like liquid from them and eliciting another shriek of agony.

This only acted to enrage Damian further, and he jumped forward again, violet magic glowing in the palms of his flesh-and-blood hands that exploded out before Bill could regain his breath. The blonde demon coughed up blood as the electrical clouds of magic smacked him in the chest and swarmed, shocking his body. Twitching, he fell to the earth.

As he recovered from the electric shocks, Bill raised a shaking hand to wipe blood off of his mouth and Damian stepped hard on his chest, leering down at him, black arms thrashing wildly against the night sky.

“I thought you said not to _underestimate_ you,” he remarked, his mouth curving into an unpleasant smirk.

As the demons tussled, Mabel squared off against her brother. After knocking him to the ground, he was quick to get back to his feet, already forming more magic in his hands. The freckles of his birthmark glowed blue as did the spheres of magical energy.

Mabel stepped back, mentally preparing herself, her heels digging into the ground. When Dipper released his magic, no expression on his cold, blank face, she responded with a massive blast of force, pushing outward like a gust of wind and knocking his magic back against him. It collided with his chest and head and temporarily stunned him, knocking him to the ground once again.

Mabel ran through options in her head as she determined her next attack, trying to figure out what would disarm Dipper without seriously injuring him. She knew what she had to do eventually, but he needed to be unable to harm her before she could even try.

With some reluctance, she made a fist with one hand and brought it up sharply in a flexing gesture. The ground moved with her, a great arm of soil. She did the same with her other arm.

She had gathered her magic just in time, as Dipper was already attacking, great swaths of blue flame swirling outward from the palms of his hands and spitting sparks into the air. His glazed-over eyes were narrowed in concentration and in this manipulated state, she could have been any enemy. All that mattered to him under Damian’s influence was that she was in his way.

Cringing, she pulled more dirt from the earth and made the golem arms larger, then threw a few punches towards Dipper.

The power of the soil prevented any fire from getting through to Mabel, and so she was protected as the great red fists swung about a few feet in front of her, but only for a few moments. Seconds later, the dirt was broken apart with a blast of blue energy, and one sphere rocketed forward and smacked her in the chest.

The wind knocked out of her, Mabel stumbled backwards, gasping for breath, and hurriedly scrambled for her magic. As some blue spears of energy formed above Dipper’s hands, she conjured a large shield around herself. Glowing pink, it hissed and sizzled at the surface of the earth, then sealed itself above her head.

With a flick of his hand, Dipper tossed the spears forward. One by one, they hit the same spot on the bubble shield, causing the pink glow to flicker like a strobe light and threaten to disappear.

The impact of each spear did a number on Mabel’s strength; while she had been practicing her magic almost constantly, she had assumed she would be facing Damian with two other magic users by her side. She hadn’t expected to be duelling her brother alone. With a sickening feeling in the back of her throat, she realized that she might not be able to win.

“No,” she mumbled, spitting hair out of her mouth and glaring up at Dipper, at his blank expression and dead eyes. “I’m gonna snap you outta this, you hear?”

Dipper gave no indication that he had registered her words, only began to form another magic attack. This energy started in his hands and began to swirl around them like miniature galaxies, royal blue with sparks of silver and cyan, beautiful but deadly.

Mabel swallowed and got to her feet, ready to drop the shield at the moment of Dipper’s attack. There was only one way to definitively end this.

The energy exploded outward. The shield absorbed the attack and collapsed. Mabel sprinted forward and grabbed her brother’s face in her hands before he could attack again.

“I’ve got you, bro,” she said fiercely, grinning for a moment before bringing their foreheads together.

 

_Dipper found himself floating in an empty space not unlike the headspace, though this one was missing the vibrant colors and flashes of thought that he knew. He also was sure that he had a form in this space, that he looked like himself. He glanced down and saw his feet hovering beneath him._

_“It’s useless to fight.”_

_He raised his head and saw himself._

_“Give in,” Other Dipper continued._

_He was a perfect copy of Dipper, down to his wind-blown hair and scuffed shoes speckled with red dirt. The differences were mostly subtle; his hair was more pushed back and out of his eyes, and his body was more_ angular _in his chin, elbows, cheekbones, and hands._

_Then there were his eyes - glazed over and glowing purple._

_“Who are you?” Dipper asked, his words echoing in the space. “Are you like - Damian Dipper?”_

_“Right now, I’m your physical body. I’m you with Damian’s influence in your mind. And I’m going to_ win. _He’s more powerful than Cipher, and certainly more powerful than_ you -”

_“But Mabel’s out there,” Dipper interrupted, “and Damian’s manipulating me. He’s no better than Bill. You - you’re_ not _me. I won’t let you be me.”_

_“What is this about? Is it about your_ love?” _Other Dipper sneered, curling his lip in a disgusted gesture. His voice was darker, more like Damian’s and less like Dipper’s. “Love for your sister I understand, but love for_ Bill? _For a_ demon?”

_“This is different and deeper than love, and you know that,” Dipper replied, trying to keep his voice steady. “It’s our connection -”_

“Fuck _this connection,” Other Dipper snarled. His teeth were sharper than any human’s. “He’s used you -”_

_“Damian fucking used me too!” Dipper shouted. “He put himself into my head! He took advantage of me! And he has no fucking_ regret, _Bill went and changed himself so that I wouldn't leave him, but Damian doesn’t care about that!_ _He doesn’t care about you, about us! Don’t you understand?_ He doesn’t care about us!”

_His voice echoed in the space, and Other Dipper took a step backwards, his face falling. His eyes darted back and forth, his eyebrows furrowed sharply as he thought._

_“Damian doesn’t care about us,” Dipper repeated. “And you - we don’t have to be like this. We don’t. We don’t have to listen to him.”_

_After a small pause, Other Dipper replied quietly, “I have to listen to him.”_

_“No we don’t.” Dipper stepped forward and grabbed at Other Dipper’s hand, and they looked into each other’s eyes. “Who’s the most important person in our life?”_

_“Mabel,” Other Dipper said automatically._

_“Right. She’s our sister. And we’re fighting her right now -_ you’re _fighting her. You might hurt her! You might have already hurt her, you -”_

_Dipper shuddered and composed himself, trying to resist curling his hands into fists. “End this. Damian_ can’t _control us,” he insisted. “Happiness - our happiness doesn’t lie with him, with some - some fabricated life he invented to try to placate us. And no, Bill hasn’t always been a source of our happiness, but we...look, our lives - our lives are too wrapped up in his to reject him completely.”_

_“He used us -”_

_“He’s a demon, we shouldn’t have expected anything different.”_

_“Probably not,” Other Dipper agreed. He was calming down, his appearance not as nightmare-ish as before._

_“So will you let me take control again?” Dipper persisted. “I’ll make things better, I promise. We’ll win, we’ll_ really _win, okay?”_

_Other Dipper paused, then gave a curt nod. “Fine. Reject his influence. Have your mind and your body back.”_

_And Dipper felt his heartbeat in his head and his mouth and felt blood running beneath his skin and felt cold sweat on his forehead and the ground beneath his feet and another pair of hands on the sides of his head -_

 

\- and he gasped and woke up, immediately falling over backwards and only just avoiding cracking his head open on a rock.

The first thing he was aware of, aside from an ache in his side and a throbbing pain in his head, was his sister kneeling over him. “Dipper! Dip, are you back? Is it you?” And she punched him in the shoulder.

“ _Ow,_ yes, it’s me, it’s me, don’t hit me,” he said, raising his hands in surrender. “I’m back, it’s me.”

“So it worked?” she asked excitedly, clambering off of him and sitting on the ground. She was breathing heavily and there were some tears in her clothes. “Did I wake up your subconscious, or whatever?”

“Uh, y-yeah, you did, I like...had a conversation with _myself,_ or with...Damian’s ‘influence,’ or whatever...wait, how did you even know how to do that?” he asked, surprised.

Mabel smiled, looking rather self-satisfied, and replied, “Bill taught me how to create a temporary headspace, and once he got super super angry and he told me to distract him or whatever, and I’d seen you just kinda hold your heads together, so I, y’know.” She bumped her fists together. “I did that. And apparently he like, confronted the angry part of himself that had taken control, and he was able to subdue it, and it was because I acted as a kind of _mediator?_ Or something?”

She shrugged. “Anyway, yeah, if you ever get possessed by something again or if Bill flies off the handle about somethin’ or other, I got it under control. Apparently it’s actually really hard to do, and I picked it up ‘abnormally quickly.’ S’ awesome.”

Dipper shook his head in bewilderment. “There’s still _so_ much I have to learn about this headspace stuff... _geez._ Wow. Mabel, that was amazing, I - _crap_ , I didn’t hurt you too badly, did I?” he asked frantically, scrambling to his hands and knees and grabbing her by her shoulders. “I didn’t do anything too crazy, did I? I can’t even remember -”

“Bro, relax, you’re fine, I’m just kinda tired n’ sore.” Mabel brushed some dirt off of her shoulder. “Let’s get back to the important - oh.”

She had turned and seen Bill’s near-unconscious form on the ground, one arm barely raised in protest and Damian’s foot planted on his chest.

Damian looked up and over at them, blood spattered across his face, and smiled broadly, the white of his teeth stark against his dark skin. His hair had been shaken out of place and some strands fell in front of his glowing violet eyes.

Mabel was the first to get to her feet. More pink magic began to form and spark in the palms of her hands, open defiance against the demon.

He tilted his head. “Cute. If I can beat _Cipher,_ do you really think you stand a chance?” he simpered, putting a hand over his chest. His black arms writhed above him. “Give up, Mabel Pines.”

“No way,” she declared, turning her hands outward so he could plainly see her willingness to fight. “You hurt my baby brother, and _I’m_ the only one allowed to do that.”

Dipper groaned from the ground. “I’m _not_ your _baby -_ Mabel, this is so cliche -”

“Y’know what, Dip, we’re kind of fighting for our lives, I’m allowed to say dramatic cliches!” she retorted, glancing down at him. “Now get up and take your revenge!”

“Revenge does feel good,” Dipper conceded. He rolled over and pushed himself up off the dirt, getting into a decent stance and preparing himself.

Damian glanced between the two of them. “So we’re doing this. Mason, I’m not sure _how_ you were able to break free of my influence -”

“You’re not the only one with brainpower, Blackwood,” Mabel cut him off, smirking. “Don’t underestimate your opponents.”

He sighed and pushed some hair back from his face. “I’m getting tired of hearing that.”

“I’m _sick_ of you,” Dipper growled, clenching his fists. “First you messed with my guy, then you messed with _me._ You’re not getting away with it.”

“Arrogance doesn’t look good on you, _little tree,”_ Damian sneered, abandoning all friendly pretense. “You have two options. You both surrender and leave with me _now,_ or I kill you.”

In response, the twins hurled their magic at him.

Taken off guard, Damian was still able to deflect the attacks, throwing out his hand to cut one off and a few black arms whipping around to the other, scattering the magic sparks.

He cleared his throat. “As I was saying -”

Mabel had taken advantage of the lapse in Damian’s attention and lit herself completely on _fire,_ white-hot flames hovering above her body and scorching the sky while leaving her unharmed. With a war cry, she jumped forward and sprinted the short distance to Damian, throwing herself practically on top of him.

The demon actually _yelped_ in shock, then spit in pain and fury as Mabel’s fire swarmed his body. Swearing, he grabbed Mabel around her waist and _threw_ her - or tried, then realized she had at least ten of his black arms in her grip.

“ _No -”_

A brilliant burst of flame raced up the length of the arms, and Damian _screeched,_ an unearthly sound leaving his throat and raising the hair on Dipper’s arms as he looked on, shocked into stillness.

He was finally able to shake himself out of it, taking long breaths and conjuring up more of his blue magic. With significant effort, his eyes squeezed shut and his muscles tensed, he created a great blue axe that hovered in the air, waiting for orders.

Dipper jerked his hand forward and the axe flew to Damian, smacking into his chest and almost catching Mabel’s foot. The demon was still attempting to swat away both Mabel and her fire, and was knocked over onto the ground.

Another terrifying scream, and Mabel threw up a victorious fist. Clutched in her still flaming hands were ten wriggling black arms, torn from their owner and dripping black fluid.

With a flash of light, her hand dropped from the air and she fell to her knees because there was suddenly a violet ghost hand around her neck, _choking_ her -

Dipper let out a mangled shout and the axe swung around and hit Damian in the face this time, eliciting a loud “ _Fuck!”_ and the disappearance of the ghost hand. Coughing, Mabel fell forward onto the ground, clutching her throat.

“Mabel!” Dipper yelled, hurriedly running forward and sliding onto his knees, ignoring the gravel poking into his skin and turning her over, “are you -”

“M’ fine! _Get him!”_ she managed to say. “ _He’s -”_

“What -” Dipper turned only to be assaulted by writhing black arms, wrapping around his wrists and body and legs. One silicon hand pressed against his chest and he could _feel_ his magic draining out of him, all of his strength, and his axe vanished into thin air and he felt close to passing out -

Another flash of light, and more arms became mere stumps. In shock, Damian stared at Bill, at the massive golden blade he held in both of his hands, his eyes flared and his body stiff.

All hints of mockery and humor were gone from Bill’s face and his stance; his expression was all deadened, cold fury as he turned to Damian.

The other demon was fiercely grinding his teeth together to keep from crying out. Many of his arms were stumps flailing behind his back and he was shaking, his wounds more obvious now as they bled and stained his shirt.

Bill’s voice was terrifyingly calm when he said, “That’s enough.”

Damian hissed at him, his pointed teeth even more nightmarish. “Then let’s end this.”

“Let’s.”

Despite his battered state, Bill still made an impressive sight when he stood tall and summoned his blue fire, his messy hair blown back from his face. His fist was tight around the shining magic blade, all of his limbs quivering, and he shifted his weight back and forth in discomfort. His clothes were torn and some long claw marks were seen, blood pooling and dripping from them and staining the fabric. As the fire licked its way up his arms, a golden triangle materialized in the air behind him, glowing lines of pure energy that hummed as they hovered.

In response, Damian’s own motif formed, a great purple circle. The useless stumps of his ruined black arms withdrew, and those with their hands still attached, swarmed above his head, ready to attack. He, too, was mottled with blood and scorch marks.

He gave a curt nod, and they flew at each other again, roaring and hissing and spitting, tackling each other with the ferocity of wildcats. Despite being attacked by the twins as well as Bill, Damian was easily holding his own.

Apparently all demons were showy, as just then Damian decided to do what Dipper and Mabel hadn’t yet attempted for fear of screwing it up - what Bill had only called _spatial manipulation._

There was a low booming sound like a bass thrum, and the entire world _tilted,_ the ground rumbling as it shifted, trees creaking and rocks tumbling.

Mabel yelped in shock and clung to Dipper’s leg as he stumbled and tried to keep himself upright. His heart pounded like crazy inside his chest; this didn’t feel _real,_ nothing felt real, he didn’t think Damian would resort to this.

Bill had managed to remain standing, breathing heavily. “Are you fucking _insane,_ Blackwood?” he shouted over the uncomfortable sounds of the earth.

“I figured you would make insanity work in your favor!” Damian jeered, folding his arms and seemingly having no problem with the situation. “What kind of chaos demon are you?”

Bill shot a glance at the twins as they looked on, shocked and scared, then looked back to Damian.

“Fine.” He cracked his knuckles. “You wanna get _weird?_ Let’s get weird.”

And the world flipped itself upside down.

With this shift, Dipper found himself and Mabel to be immune to the change in gravitational pull that Damian was abruptly trapped in. Before he could be hurled off into the endless sky, the demon’s black arms stretched out and wrapped around an entire tree, holding him in place.

Before Bill could do anything else in his favor, Damian telekinetically pulled massive rocks out of the ground and threw them in his direction. Bill only just somersaulted out of the way before they crashed into the ground where he had stood.

The world flipped once again, and Damian fell heavily to the ground with an unsettling _thud._ Bill struggled to his feet and teleported to Damian’s side, attacking him before the other demon could get up. As they rolled around kicking and scratching and biting at each other, the world continued to tilt. Rocks and bits of displaced earth swerved around them as they used their telekinesis, blood spattered the ground, and the sky began to flicker, as if the stars were going out.

The twins exchanged frantic looks. “We have to end this _now,”_ said Dipper, scrunching up his nose and popping his ears. “Before they tear the world apart.”

Mabel nodded and jerked her head in the direction of the great circle that Bill had managed to etch semi-permanently into the ground a day prior. “Somehow we have to get Damian into that, and then -”

“Bill has the incantation.” Dipper bit his lip hard. “We might have to use our own telekinesis. Are you any good at it?”

Mabel shrugged. “I haven’t actually practiced it much.”

“Well, if we do it together, maybe we can...okay. Focus on that patch of ground where they are.”

Together, the twins channelled every last spark of their magic into the earth, racing through roots and tiny tunnels and red dirt and dust, reaching the demons. _Lift. Raise. Come._

Slowly, slowly, the ground obeyed their commands, a massive amount of dirt heaving itself out of the earth while carrying the demons on top of it. As Dipper concentrated on moving it, Mabel did her best to rearrange the great mass of dirt, molding and shifting it into a kind of dish-like shape to keep Damian and Bill from falling out.

This effort was somewhat negated, however, when Dipper’s strength finally gave out and the earth collapsed, the dish breaking apart on the ground and tossing Damian and Bill out, bits of root and tiny rocks and lots of dirt flying everywhere. The demons were completely bewildered when they raised their heads and observed their surroundings.

Mabel and Dipper were almost completely spent, breathing heavily and unable to summon any more magic in their current state. Still, Dipper struggled to his feet, prepared to sprint.

“Bill!” he shouted. The demon looked to him, and their eyes met. “Do it now!”

Bill nodded once and lunged at Damian once again, knocking and shoving and pulling him into the circle, fighting him all the while, and Dipper ran, ran despite his heart somehow hovering in his mouth and his legs nearly collapsing beneath him.

Damian, not knowing of his position, only continued to fight against Bill as the latter chased him into the center. As soon as Damian was relatively in the middle of the circle, kneeling over Bill as they tussled, Dipper made his move.

“ _Daemon, me adi veni!”_ Bill called. Damian’s face twisted in momentary confusion.

_“Daemon, me ad veni!”_ Dipper shouted, sliding forward and planting his hands on the outside of the circle. It instantly glowed white-blue, lines shining out of the dusty earth and casting eerie light upon the demons.

Damian glanced around him in shock that quickly turned to horror as he recognized symbols - _his_ symbols, _his_ summoning circle.

“No,” he said, his voice shaking, “ _no, no!”_ The words became a snarl as he jumped to his feet. " _NO!”_

Bill was on him again in seconds, forcing him to the ground through whatever means necessary, punching and kicking and biting and using vibrant blue chains that seemed to appear out of nowhere.

_“Potestatem tua agnosco ego et sicut,”_ Bill continued, coughing, _“mea cogitationes et desideria vos agnosco te autem rogo!”_

Dipper repeated him, each word following Bill’s by seconds. He tried not to focus on the demon fight - how Damian was tearing into Bill’s chest, digging his teeth into his shoulder, the fire on Bill’s hands, chains fumbling with Damian’s feet - and channel all of his attention into the incantation.

“You can’t - get rid of me!” Damian snarled, his voice distorted. “You - you _filth,_ you fucking mess of a demon, you _disgrace -”_

“Shut the hell up!” Bill spat in his face, leering at him. “ _Loqui possit nos quod ita est egressus quaeso!”_

Dipper’s words were almost drowned out by Damian’s roars of rage, but he repeated Bill precisely as his hands trembled on the earth. The glow of the circle was bright enough to hurt his eyelids, but he didn’t want to close his eyes, he _couldn’t -_

“ _Vos vocat qui,”_ Bill said heavily, all of his effort spent in pinning Damian to the ground, “ _odium villa - de circulum daemon!”_

_“NO!”_ Damian shouted again, loud enough to shake the trees. In one last effort, he sunk his teeth into Bill’s arm. Bill hissed in pain and sharply withdrew his arm, giving Damian a tiny brief window -

Dipper finished the last word and, directly in the center of the circle and barely five feet away from the demons, an indigo streak of pure supernatural energy split the air, tearing apart to reveal a massive portal reminiscent of a black hole. Whatever lay on the other end of the portal was unseen; only a black and purple cloud illuminated with tiny sparks hinted at what lay beyond the veil.

There was a _whooshing_ sound, and the portal began to suck in the air, searching for whatever it was summoned to consume. Both demons turned around in a combination of amazement and terror, their hair and clothing blown back from the rushing interdimensional winds.

Dipper was momentarily torn from the incantation, too enraptured by the portal. It was nothing like he’d ever seen before, not even during their other paranormal experiences. It was entirely otherworldly, something out of Bill’s dimension that the mortal world would never understand.

Then the demons were on the ground again, rolling about with their hands all over each other, Damian desperately trying to throw Bill off of him and escape -

And then Bill shouted Damian’s name.

It was a strange combination of syllables that Dipper had never heard before; it was the demon language from over ten thousand years ago that had been forgotten.

He shouted it in return, and Damian _shrieked,_ his black arms thrashing wildly behind him. The demon was raised into the air, hovering without his consent, and he kicked out at thin air, struggling in any way he could.

Dipper repeated himself, saying the name again, again, again - four times total, and Damian was being sucked into the portal, one of his legs disappeared and his human form began to _flicker_ in and out of existence, unable to cross over to the other dimension with him. During the brief flashes where his human form disappeared, Dipper could only see one large purple eye in a swirling black sphere; Damian’s true form.

Again. Again. Six times. Damian’s left arm had been consumed by the other dimension, his other leg pulled in, his human form fading. Bill was staring at the portal with a brazen, open-mouthed grin on his face from his position on the ground.

Dipper’s mouth formed the first syllable.

One of Damian’s black hands - from his true form - snatched at Bill’s arm. Then three more. Then onto his other arm.

The second syllable.

“Let’s say hello to your house, shall we?” Damian whispered through his true form’s permanently smiling mouth.

The third.

Bill’s eyes opened wide in terror. “No -”

And the final.

Damian was sucked inside of the portal, gone. All that remained of him were the seven black hands pulling Bill into the portal, one of his feet already gone.

It took a few heart wrenching moments for Dipper to realize, to see -

“ _NO!”_ he yelled, and he seemed to move in slow motion, his stupidly weak legs dragging on the ground, his arms not strong enough to reach out -

Both of Bill’s legs had disappeared into the portal, the twinkling cloud consuming his body like flies, Damian’s hands had an iron grip around his arms and he couldn’t struggle out -

Dipper skidded to a stop in front of the portal just as most of Bill’s body vanished, only his head with his panicked expression and one arm, one hand grasping at nothing.

Dipper lunged for him, a final desperate move, but Bill yanked his arm out of Dipper’s reach. “Don’t,” was all he could say. By the pained look on his face, he was fighting Damian as much as he could, but wouldn’t hold out much longer.

“Don’t,” Dipper repeated, the word choked out of his suddenly constricting throat. “Don’t - don’t go where I can’t follow, Bill, _please -”_

Bill’s arm disappeared. His yellow eyes flashed briefly and he opened his mouth to say, “Pine Tree, I -”

He was cut off when his head was stolen by the darkness. The portal sealed itself, fizzling indigo magic joining again and swirling briefly in the air before disappearing with a _pop._

Dipper stared up at the empty space. It had been only seconds. An entire life. Loss. Seconds, mere seconds. His soulmate was gone.

There was a sudden pain in his head and he collapsed to the ground, clutching his head in his hands and pressing his thumbs against his temples, his eyes squeezed shut and his teeth bared, his heart was still beating but his body was numb, he was - he was -

“ _No,”_ he mumbled, barely audible in the cage of his hands and arms, his lips barely moving. “No, no, no, he’s not - he can’t be _gone,_ he can’t -”

Senseless hope made him raise his head, but the empty night air gave him nothing but a view of the stars above.

_“Bill,”_ he choked out, and then he was _crying_ but he couldn’t feel the tears gathering in his eyes and running down his cheeks, he couldn’t feel _anything,_ he didn’t _want_ to. The great, horrible emptiness in his head would never go away. He was stuck with a lifetime of loneliness that could never be replaced. Resummoning Bill would do little; while the demon was still his soulmate, all of his human emotions and sensibilities would have been lost the second he crossed into his realm. It would be as if the last two and a half months had never happened.

He felt a warm hand on his back and closed his eyes, allowed Mabel to give him a one-armed embrace and help him get to his feet. She was murmuring some comforting words and seemed to be struggling to hold back tears herself; Dipper heard her sniffle.

Memories of the last few months unwillingly crossed his mind; the three of them at Newport, Bill's stupid summer outfits that made him look like a Calvin Klein model, swimming -  _stop it, stop it -_ all of their casual moments just sitting around, eating breakfast, watching TV, getting drunk and making up bad drinking games and getting into stupid fights -  _stop! -_ the first time they kissed, the way their bodies fit together, Bill's mouth on his skin, his filthy language in his ears,  _stop it!_ Dipper shouted at himself, he was just going to keep crying, tears kept coming and he didn't have the strength to wipe them off of his face, nor the strength to keep the memories out. 

They made it across the clearing, then nearly tripped on a hunk of dirt that they had torn out of the ground. Dipper opened his eyes and looked down at it, images from barely minutes ago flashing through his mind - _Bill and Damian fighting, me and Mabel carrying them, all that dirt fell apart, they fell, I - I -_

He must have pulled a face, because Mabel quickly said, “Bro, it’s - it’s okay, it’s okay, we need to just - hang on.” She struggled with something that Dipper didn’t bother looking at. “We’ll go home, okay? We’ll go home.”

Dipper nodded once. He unstuck his tongue from the roof of his mouth and said, “I just - I need - I’m -”

“Shh, it’s okay. I love you, bro. It’s gonna be okay,” she soothed, despite her own trembling mouth. “It’s -”

Across the clearing, there was suddenly a loud _crack,_ like unexpected lightning, then an odd kind of _whirring_ sound. The twins turned around to hear another electrical crackle and see another indigo streak appear. It swelled and swelled and swelled - then spat something out.

An unmistakable  _human_ form rolled across the ground and came to a halt, swearing profusely, and the indigo streak disappeared once again.

As the twins stared on in astoundment, Bill heaved himself into a seating position and rubbed his head. “That hurt like a _bitch,"_ he grumbled. “Stupid portal. They don’t make ‘em like they used to.”

Dipper was running forward and stumbling to an unsteady stop before his mind could wake up from its stupor. He looked at Bill, at his ash-smudged face and ripped shirt and sooty, bedraggled hair, and couldn’t say anything. His mouth was open as he reached for Bill, one hand over Bill's hand, amazed beyond all belief at the skin beneath his own. 

Bill returned the look and his mouth twitched in amusement. “Long time no see.”

“You’re - you’re _alive,_ you’re _here,”_ Dipper was saying shakily, his hands fumbling with Bill’s hands and shirt and body, talking too fast and slurring his words together, “you’re not - _how -”_

Bill gave a derisive snort. “Blackwood’s an idiot. You can’t get rid of a demon if you’re not using its specific summoning circle, _obviously._ I’m not sure what he expected to accomplish with that stunt.”

Dipper laughed loudly and outrageously, gasping for air in between his bouts of relieved, shocked laughter, and threw his arms around Bill’s stomach, his face against his chest. He felt Bill start in surprise, then give a _huff_ of amusement and return the embrace. It was as if he had left his body and some ridiculous, emotional, breathless version of him had taken up residence, his tears creating small wet patches on Bill’s shirt and his hands still grasping wildly for Bill’s clothes, his waist, anything, anything to remind himself that he was _real_ and _here_ and that he wasn’t going away.

“Enough of _that,”_ Bill said brusquely, and pushed Dipper away from him only to hold his face in his hands and lean in. “Are you alright?” he asked, his dark eyebrows furrowed in consternation. He ran a hand through Dipper’s hair, surveyed him, searching for anything wrong. “Did Damian hurt you? If he laid a hand on you -”

“I’m fine,” Dipper interrupted, taking Bill’s wrists and moving his hands away only for Bill to immediately grab his face again. His mindless laughter was fading, interrupted by hiccups. “Seriously, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? He was in your head for a long time, do you feel anything wrong in your mind? He didn’t touch you at all? What did he do, did he -”

“ _Bill.”_ Dipper returned the gesture and held Bill’s face in his hands, glaring at him. “I’m _fine. You’re_ the one who just went through the full-scale demon smackdown, you disappeared into your dimension for - for a minute n’ a half, you’ve got blood all over you, are _you_ okay?”

Bill jerked his head dismissively. “Don’t worry about me, kid, I’ll be fine in 24 hours, somethin’ like that.  _‘Tis but a flesh wound.”_ He turned and spat out some blood. His eyes were dark with concern and some brooding anger when he looked back at Dipper, still searching for discrepancies, proof that Damian had hurt his claim.

“I can’t fucking _stand_ the idea of him being near you, _touching_ you,” he said, his voice a low growl. “That’s punishable by death, and he knew it -”

“Look, that doesn’t matter, Damian’s back in your dimension and he can’t come back here for a long time, right? It’s _over._ Quit being weird.” Dipper lightly smacked Bill on the side of his head. “Let’s just...be thankful that we’re all alive and safe.” He laughed again. “And you’re here. You’re _here.”_

Bill exhaled. “Yeah. Okay. You’re right.”

They fell into a few seconds of silence, their hands still on each other’s faces, so close, as close as they could get.

“I missed you,” Bill said quietly, his eyes darting away. “My head hurt like hell for the first week.”

“Same here. I popped a lot of pills. But I was doing okay by week two, I think.” Dipper scrunched up his face and thought. “Yeah. I wish I’d been able to know, I wish - _God,_ this whole thing was just a huge mess,” he said, hiccuping again and smiling. The cold, numb panic that had filled his body was slowly easing its way out, replaced with the heat he always felt when Bill was close to him, such a _comfort._ Such a goddamned blessing that he never recognized until that moment.

“Probably the worst fucking mess I’ve ever seen.” Bill pushed his fingers through Dipper’s curls again, biting his lip. “But if something had happened to you -”

“Oh, for the love of _God,_ you two idiots, just _kiss!”_ Mabel shouted from a good few feet away, her arms flung outward in exasperation as she tried not to laugh. Her own relief was written all over her bright, smiling face, some remaining tears shining on her cheeks.

Startled by her loud voice, both men had looked in her direction, wide-eyed and caught off guard. Bill turned back to Dipper and opened his mouth, prepared to say something sleazy, and was immediately interrupted by Dipper kissing him, hands on his face and in his hair and on his chest and wandering anywhere they could reach as Dipper reassured himself again that Bill was _real._

Bill, surprised and equally smug, kept one hand on Dipper’s face and curled the other around his waist, pulling him forward possessively as he returned the kiss. There was a warm, genuine passion between them that they had only ever caught glimpses of. Bill didn’t want to let Dipper go, didn’t _ever_ want him to leave again, and Dipper had no desire to do so.

Eventually, because his sister was there, Dipper extracted himself from Bill’s grip. “I missed that,” he admitted begrudgingly.

Bill just laughed, poking Dipper’s shoulder while still holding him close. “ _Hah,_ you _missed me -”_

“Wh - so did _you,_ asshole, you just _said -”_

“Yeah, but I have a _claim_ on you, it’s different,” Bill retorted, turning up his nose. “ _You’re_ just caught up in _emotion -”_

“Oh, shut up, you’re half a person, you know what emotion feels like by now,” Dipper pointed out accusingly, poking Bill’s chest in return.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Bill replied, wrinkling his nose. “It sucks _ass,_ but whatever.”

Dipper grinned, leaning forward and resting his head against Bill’s shoulder. “You did it for me.”

Bill struggled for a good comeback for a good 20 seconds before eventually replying “Yeah,” and not elaborating.

Then he snorted. “‘Cause we’re _soulmates.”_

“Shut up,” Dipper said again, punching Bill lightly in the arm even as he raised his head and kissed Bill again.

But this was very brief, as he remembered to ask, “How’re we getting home? I don’t feel like _walking,_ and I’m sure you’re too tired to teleport -”

Mabel cleared her throat and the men turned to her again. She waved her phone. “I’ve got us covered.”

Barely a minute later, there was a rustling in the bracken, and the trio could hear a familiar voice swearing and complaining as she pushed her way through the undergrowth.

“I _hate_ nature,” Pacifica declared, stomping out indignantly and brushing bits of plant off of her pale gray shirt, looking disgusted. “Pick a better place for your demon fight next time. I was sitting in the dark -”

She was interrupted when Mabel flung her arms around her, hugging her tightly. Taken aback and suddenly blushing, Pacifica returned the hug, turning her face into Mabel’s neck.

“So you’re okay?” she asked, clearing her throat, and Mabel pulled away beaming.

“Yeah! We’re fine, we’re - we’re good.” Mabel whistled, shaking her head. "One heck of a fight, but we're safe."

“Thank _God,”_ Pacifica replied, shaking her head. "You run off to a  _demon fight,_ Jesus, what  _haven't_ you guys done? So what happened?" She looked over at the guys, raising an eyebrow at their position but saying nothing.

"Damian's gone," Dipper replied, and he was still smiling, he couldn't stop. Bill had an arm around him and he was leaning into him, still so amazed and so grateful that he was _here._  "We kicked his ass, and he's gone."

"And we thought Bill was a goner!" Mabel put in. "Damian pulled him into the portal -"

"_ but it spit me back out because it wasn't my summoning circle," Bill finished, looking smug. 

Pacifica made a face. "I'll pretend for a minute that that makes  _any_ kind of sense and say congratulations, I'm glad nobody died." She allowed her expression to soften for a moment. "Seriously. It's great."

She turned to Mabel again. "You're sure you're not hurt or anything? You look kinda beat up, Mabes."

"Sounds like you," Dipper remarked in an undertone, bumping his head against Bill's shoulder.

Bill snorted. "I wonder why."

"I'm fine, seriously, s' all good, it's just some scrapes, N-B-D." Mabel shrugged.

Pacifica hesitated, taking a step back and biting her lip. “Because, I - I meant what I said before...you came out here. I love you.” Her voice slowly became a mumble.

Mabel laughed in a higher pitch than usual. “I know, dummy, I love you too.”

“No, _God,_ Mabel, _I love you.”_ Pacifica set her hands on Mabel’s shoulders. “I love you like…” She paused, then gestured to where Bill and Dipper stood with their arms still all over each other. “I love you like _that,_ okay?”

Bill frowned. "Excuse you, this is  _way_ different."

"Wait, you - you mean like, like  _that?_ Okay, wait, Paz -"

Pacifica heaved a sigh, rolled her eyes, and kissed Mabel before the other girl could keep stammering.

Mabel’s eyes shot wide open in shock and she made a sound in surprise, her arms suddenly stuff at her sides. A second passed, and she got it, she closed her eyes and held Pacifica around her waist and kissed her back rather enthusiastically, enough to send Pacifica stumbling backwards a few steps.

“Finally,” Bill muttered, and Dipper laughed, turning his face into Bill’s chest again.

When they broke apart, Mabel was smiling, smiling so wide and so brightly that it probably _hurt_ her to smile like that, and Pacifica grinned slightly in return, shuffling her feet in the red dust.

“So, er -”

“ _Yes!”_ Mabel sang instantly, hugging Pacifica tightly again and nearly squeezing the air out of the other girl. “Absolutely, definitely, totally, _yes,_ Paz, I love you too, oh my _gosh -”_

“Calm down, I was gonna say _so can we leave,”_ Pacifica interrupted, rolling her eyes again. “...but also, will you be my girlfriend.”

“ _Obviously.”_ Mabel grabbed her hand and leaned against her, laughing giddily. “Wow, _wow -”_

“Okay, _can_ we leave?” Pacifica asked loudly, her face still bright red.

“Yeah, let’s get out of here, I’m _exhausted,”_ said Bill, yawning. “Where’s your car? We can celebrate all of our human crap when we get home. Preferably with alcohol.”

“It’s parked a couple minutes away.”

They began the brief trek through the undergrowth with no more dread, no more anxiety; only freedom, only relief. Dipper reached for Bill’s hand and they grasped each other tightly, yet another reminder that they were together again, that they were safe.

“So,” Bill began, looking serious when he turned to Dipper.

“What?” Dipper asked cautiously.

Bill’s face lapsed into a grin. “ _Messed with your guy,_ huh?”

Dipper groaned. “Oh, _God.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one more chapter to go. as always, thank you so much for all of your support.


	29. Chapter Twenty-Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: this day, the 21st, exactly one year ago, was when i started writing what would become DM. i was on my way up to my cabin at 11 at night, somewhat unpleased with the quality of the billdip fics i was finding, so i decided to write my own. it grew from a single document to a 150k+ story. early 2015 skye would be so amazed and emotional over the response DM has received.
> 
> also, whatever you do, don't listen to "a thousand years" by christina perri or "i see the light" from the tangled soundtrack while reading this

_"Invoco elementa terrae...Rogo vos nostras animas in unum ligare.”_

_“Rogo vos nostras mentes una ligare. Patimur partientem nostrarum cogitationum memoriaque nostra nostraque concitantis passionis.”_

“I can’t believe I’m watching this happen again,” Mabel said with a sniffle, rubbing her hand under her nose. “Seems like it was just yesterday that Bill joined our family.”

“Weird family,” Pacifica commented. The girls sat off to the side and safely away from the alchemagical circle as it glowed bright green. Pacifica had her arm around Mabel’s waist lightly, prepared to move it and squeeze her girlfriend’s hand if she started crying.

“Yeah,” Mabel agreed with a little laugh, “it’s pretty weird. Not sure why you want to be a part of this weirdness.”

“Hey, I like your weirdness,” Pacifica reminded her, quickly kissing her cheek.

Mabel flushed pink and put her hand over her mouth again. “If y’ say so,” she mumbled into her fist. Pacifica just laughed.

_“Conectite omnes nostrum iam. Dolor meus dolor suus est,”_ Dipper was saying, his eyes flickering down to the book that lay open between him and Bill. Their foreheads were touching and their minds burned with longing as their union drew ever closer.

_"Gaudium meum gaudium suum est.”_ Bill was actually _smiling._ His relief had been written all over his face and body in the last 18-or-so hours, in his triumphant expressions and his stupid strut, but also in his eyes when he looked at Dipper.

His possessiveness, threatened by Damian’s presence, no longer needed to roar with such fury. Now it was calm, tamed, and approaching gentle. His little actions - grabbing at Dipper’s hand or arm or waist, kissing him with no prior warning, holding him - were no longer the desperate movements of a man in danger, but were entirely casual. He _knew_ Dipper belonged to him. There was no one to say otherwise. Nothing got in the way of his conviction.

_"Vita mea vita sua est,"_ they said in unison, and reached for each other’s hands. Individually, they marvelled at how their fingers fit together, how something sparked between them when their skin touched, how physical contact felt so _right._ Dipper caught a flash of old irritation - _why couldn’t I have this chemistry with a normal person,_ the usual complaints - but had no hesitation. Not anymore.

Their minds and bodies and souls had cried out for their reunification since the separation, a wretched agony that stretched long into the empty spaces of their heads. Finally, after weeks, the pain was over. It was all over.

_“Iungimus mentes nostras et corpora una ceteram mortalem vitam,”_ said Bill. _“Quia nunc donec ad mortalitatem morior, nostrae mentes unum sunt.”_

At the girls’ sounds of surprise, the men both opened their eyes to see the lines of glowing green magic rise from the earth and wind around them, surrounding them in a tight coil as they, too, began to glow.

“Did this happen last time?” Pacifica whispered. Mabel nodded. They were holding hands now, Mabel squeezing Pacifica’s tightly.

Distracted by Bill’s eyes and the magic cage around them, it took a few seconds for Dipper to glance back down at the book and say, _“Creo locum pro nobis et nobis tantum.”_

_“Nullum arcanum vel mendacia; simplices sumus,”_ Bill said softly, his thumbs moving in gentle circles on Dipper’s hands. He was still smiling, his teeth barely visible.

_“Iungite animas nostras,”_ they said in unison, their voices growing stronger. “ _Iungite mentes nostras. Iungite animas nostras. Iungite mentes nostras.”_

Then came an oddly satisfying discomfort as the empty holes in their heads began to fill up with each other once again, a new shared headspace blooming where the old one had once been. The pain was hardly as intense as it was the first time they had done the ritual, and much less so than the splitting of their souls, but it repeated its prior actions, creating space in each other's’ heads for new memories, thoughts, and feelings.

_“Unum sumus!”_ they said together, victorious words almost loud enough to be a shout as their selves merged once again, two halves of a whole blending together in a joyous reunion.

This time, they almost _reveled_ in the sudden explosion of color. The floodgates opened and they mingled, thoughts swimming back and forth and fitting neatly into niches and crevices in each other’s minds, everything glowing with a beautiful _finally._ The pain that had accompanied the original soul bond was still there, a reminder of what they had done, but it was nothing compared to their souls’ great happiness.

Dipper felt a seizing in his chest and found himself smiling so wide that it _hurt,_ so relieved and so free. Nothing was just _his_ anymore _,_ it was _theirs._ The presence in his head he had missed so much was finally _there_ again, natural as can be and shining with brilliance.

And now there was something more. There was no locks or sealed off areas, no wariness or distrust; there were no secrets left to hide. They were free to wander just about wherever they pleased in each other’s minds. Bill’s humanity was now obvious, considering how wild and careless his emotions were, and how so many of them were new and still fresh in his mind. They still confused him, but he would learn to understand.

The most apparent was their bright green symbiotic devotion, which burst to life the second their last words left their mouths. It grew and stretched out like a vine, touching all aspects of their selves, joined with little flecks of hot pink that represented some other emotion. The miniature light show was the most beautiful thing either of them had ever seen.

When the feelings passed, and their bodies still hummed with the joy of their minds, they were able to open their eyes again.

“ _Immortalis, unum sumus,”_ said Dipper slowly, his voice shaking.

_“Mortalis, unum sumus,”_ Bill murmured, his voice low and at ease.

_“Animae nostrae ligatae sunt una ceteram mortalem vitam,”_ they finished together. _“Unum sumus.”_

The green light faded out, leaving the bright summer’s day in its place, the sun beating down onto the men once again. Their foreheads were still pressed together and their hands were still locked; all contact felt so good that they had no desire to break it.

_Finally,_ Bill thought, and he was smiling, and Dipper was smiling, and the _finally_ was both of their voices at once, both of their souls, both of them together.

They were so, so, so grateful to see their headspace swimming with colors again, yellows and greens and bright, vibrant blues, the colors of their happiness and their relief. They could easily lose themselves in it and watch their thoughts collide, merge, twirl around each other and dance across their mindscapes.

_Forgive me yet?_ Bill asked, with a challenge behind the joke.

_Probably never,_ Dipper replied. His complete honesty was obvious. _But I need you, and you make me happy, even though you’re an obnoxious sociopath._

Bill laughed. _Fair enough. I need you too, little tree, you know that._

The headspace glowed green. _I do now._

Bill’s hands let go of Dipper’s and moved to hold his head, running his fingers through Dipper’s hair, thumbs brushing his ears. _I never want to let you go._

Dipper cracked a grin, pale pink embarrassment appearing in his corner of the headspace. _Idiot._

Bill rolled his eyes. _I thought we were done insulting each other._

_If you think I'll ever stop insulting you, you're sadly mistaken,_ Dipper replied. He tentatively withdrew, breaking any physical connection, and the headspace hummed with his relief. _Good, we can still talk when we’re apart, I was kinda worried we couldn't._

_We can, but -_ Bill reached out and wrapped his arms around Dipper’s waist, pulling him back - _I don't want to._

Dipper made a face at him. _Don't be weird._

Bill grinned broadly, as annoying as always. _Things are always gonna be weird, little tree, get used to it._

“Guys, say something!” Pacifica called from about 15 feet away. Mabel was obviously struggling not to cry. “Are you okay? Did everything work?”

The men looked over at them, though Bill’s grip only tightened around Dipper’s waist. “Everything's good,” said Dipper, who found himself smiling further; his heart was so light, his mind was glowing with bright green devotion, and he was at peace. “Really good. It all worked out.”

“Okay, see, Mabes? They're fine.” Pacifica patted Mabel's shoulder. “Don't cry.”

Mabel sniffed and said, “That's not the reason, dummy. It's just...well, you get it.” She grinned tearfully at her brother, her smile wavering. “You get it.”

“I get it,” he agreed, resting his face on Bill’s chest. “But that’s no reason to _cry.”_

She frowned at him. “Stop ganging up on me! So I’m an _emotional person,_ I’m not ashamed of that. If you don’t want me to cry, stop being so freaking _cute,_ you dumb nerds.”

Dipper unwittingly flushed red and turned away from the girls, ignoring their giggles. _Tell them to shut up,_ he grumbled.

“He says shut up,” Bill reported, which only encouraged their laughter.

Bill adjusted himself so he was holding Dipper close to his chest again; Dipper, still avoiding embarrassment, ducked his head into Bill’s neck.

_I hate this,_ he grouched.

Bill laughed. _Get used to it._ He combed a hand through Dipper’s hair. _No rush. We’ve got, what, some sixty-odd years, hm?_

The idea - no, the _fact -_ that he was going to spend the rest of his life with Bill was so horrifying to Dipper at first. Bill was annoying, chaotic, messy, possessive, snarky, and very much an asshole. Pretty much the _opposite_ of an ideal roommate, not to mention _partner._

But Bill was a part of him, and he was a part of Bill, their souls wound so tightly together that they really couldn’t be without each other anymore.

_Soulmates,_ Bill reminded him smugly.

He withdrew just to give Bill a very brief look before holding his face in his hands, dragging his fingers through his hair and tracing his cheekbones, and kissing him.

Neither of them knew that kissing with the headspace back would be so _intense,_ but their minds were storms of brilliant colors blending and joining together. They could hear each other’s heartbeats, hear all of the quiet inner thoughts they couldn’t hide, the waves of joy that had calmed earlier rising again and washing up against the iridescent shores. Nothing felt better than being _together,_ no matter how weird the whole situation was.

The word _soulmates_ echoed again. Dipper wanted to do the mental equivalent of rolling his eyes, he _really_ did, but with his head against Bill's and their minds bright and beautiful together, both of them incredibly and miraculously alive, he had to admit it was the only word that came close to what they were. There was no other word in the English language that described the way his head glowed with color when their eyes met, no word for this telepathic connection hovering between them, no word for this undying devotion he could feel in his bones.

They broke apart a bit too late considering their amused company, but the amount of time that had passed was practically indistinguishable. All that made sense, all that mattered, was Bill’s expression and the surprising softness of his yellow eyes, his mouth still quirked in a challenging grin, a silent _well?_

_Yeah, okay,_ Dipper conceded, knocking his forehead against Bill’s. Their hands found each other again. _Soulmates._

 

* * *

 

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,   

I love you directly without problems or pride:

I love you like this because I don’t know any other way to love,

except in this form in which I am not nor are you,   

so close that your hand upon my chest is mine,   

so close that your eyes close with my dreams.

 

\-- Pablo Neruda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i want to thank a few people. 
> 
> my friends Carrie Anne, Becca, Anna, and Maz, for encouraging and supporting me all through DM's conception and execution. i love you all so much, and i appreciate you putting up with my yelling and sobbing and enthusiasm for an entire year. 
> 
> my newer friends Rylee, Dross (just using ur nickname), and Harlee - and my gf, Nykolle - i met you all through my writing and i'm so happy that i did. i love talking to you and getting ideas and support from you. also crying with you, that's always fun. 
> 
> all of my commentators/everyone who's sent me tumblr messages abt DM, because i love hearing what you think. especially my regulars - i see y'all. you're awesome. 
> 
> i never thought i would get this far (and i originally wanted to end this february, go figure) but i'm so glad that i did. i have a few fics in progress i plan to start posting in june, and the oneshot collection will also update periodically. thank you all so much for all of your support, i couldn't have done it without you.
> 
> **EDIT 3/1/18:** wow, 2000 kudos!!!! you are all amazing, thank you so much for all of your support, even almost 2 years after this ended. i dont reply to all comments but i do read and love them, i promise. you're wonderful, thank you for the validation. ♡ i also wrote a chapter for something my buddy wrote, you can check it out and shower her in support [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10511661/chapters/23197761).


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